One Shot
by PsychicWonderKitty
Summary: One shot. Two brothers. It’s all that either of them have to prevent a sad and bloody ending, and for better or worse…they’re both ready to take it. Partially AU, post-episodes 5.03 and 5.04…and not a one-shot despite the title! LOL.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: You'd think after two-plus years, I would've made at least _some_ progress on the matter. But alas, no, I'm STILL no closer to owning _Supernatural_ or those wonderful Winchesters than I was during my last story! LOL. It all belongs to Eric Kripke and company…the evil man.

SPOILERS: They vary quite a bit, but are especially heavy concerning Season 4 and Season 5 episodes. The action in this story takes place after _Free to Be You and Me_, and offers a slightly AU take on events during and after _The End_ but before _Fallen Idols_.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**One Shot**

SUMMARY: _One shot. Two brothers. It's all that either of them have to prevent a sad and bloody ending, and for better or worse…they're both ready to take it. Partially AU, post-episodes 5.03 and 5.04…and not a one-shot despite the title! LOL._

**Chapter 1**

"Lucky number thirteen, kid. All the way on the end."

"Thanks," Sam replied drolly, accepting his room key from the elderly motel manager. _How appropriate…guess Room 666 was already taken._ With a weary sigh, the youngest Winchester – if he could even still call himself a Winchester anymore, anyway – hitched the duffel bag that contained his meager belongings higher on his shoulder and trudged off in the direction of his latest home away from home. It was becoming an increasingly long list, and Sam knew it was only going to keep growing, possibly even for the rest of his life.

Because as much as he wanted to, he couldn't deny the cold, hard truth…he no longer had a home. He could never go home again.

True, Sam knew that most people would say that he'd in fact _never_ had a home to begin with, should they ever be privy to his life story, but he didn't care about that. For Sam, home had never consisted of a place, of four walls and floors and furniture and a roof over his head. Instead, it represented a person, the most important person in his life…his big brother Dean. The very individual who had, mere minutes ago as Sam sought out the night's shelter in his stolen jalopy of an old car, informed him over the phone that it would be better if they remained apart…on opposite sides of the world, to be more precise.

The world that, thanks to Sam, was set to come to an end any day now.

No, he hadn't _meant_ to release Lucifer from his eternal prison, of course…_God knew_ he hadn't. But Sam guessed none of that was of any importance anyhow, because _God_ was apparently AWOL from His rather crucial post of ruling the heavens and Earth, and that road to Hell Sam had found himself nearly at the end of was _oh-so proverbially _paved with those good intentions he'd had. Plus, now there was that new, somewhat pressing matter that the Devil in the current flesh of some guy named Nick ultimately wanted _Sam_ for his flesh instead.

Dean, meanwhile, was too busy stopping the Apocalypse to help a brother out…to help _his own_ brother out, namely. But hindsight is twenty/twenty, they say, and Sam had come to realize that _he_ certainly wasn't the one destined to save the world. _Never_ was, despite what he'd been thinking when he'd strolled into that Maryland convent with Lilith in his demonically-enhanced powers' crosshairs…and Ruby at his side. _Ruby_, not Dean.

And for his big brother, that had been the crux of the matter, the real nail in the coffin of the brotherly bond and trust between them, as it turned out. _'You chose a demon over me!'_ The hurt and outraged words had echoed over and over in his head, ever since the night Dean had spoken them in the parking lot of the hospital that housed a newly-paralyzed Bobby Singer…and oversimplified though they were, Sam couldn't deny the intrinsic truth of them any more than he could deny that he'd broken the last seal and literally unleashed THE Beast. He was done abusing the truth – done denying it, done hiding it. Done making excuses for his ultimately inexcusable actions.

Just like Dean was done trying to save him.

The weight of the cell phone in his coat pocket suddenly felt heavier as Sam unlocked the door to his room, too lost in his thoughts to appreciate the humor of the motel obviously being as old as the man who managed it if the requirement of an actual _key_ instead of a key_card_ was anything to go by. It was still there – the condemning voicemail that, for him, had been the final push firmly into Ruby's arms and his own damnation – and that, now combined with the latest assault of the final piercing wail of the dial tone after Dean had efficiently cut him off and hung up on him, made him want to either drop the phone and grind it under his boot heel or chuck it into the nearest body of water. But he had to resist that urge…it was his reminder; a reminder to stay the hell away from Dean. His older brother had certainly had enough Hell in his life.

And Sam, no matter how unwittingly, brought Hell with him every time. Everywhere he went…and to everyone he loved.

But Sam was resolved that this would be no more. Especially now that Hades' head honcho himself had chosen Sam for the unsavory honor of being his perfect meat-suit. And Sam had told Dean as much, fear thick in his voice but no restraint within his words – knowing if he were ever to regain Dean's trust, he'd have to start small and _stop_ lying and keeping secrets – but even then, the big brother who used to drop everything and come to Sam's aid if Sam so much as even winced from a paper cut, was unmoved. Not even his little brother's most unspeakable terror at what could possibly be to come for him had rattled Dean's cage, and when it came down to it, Sam had to admire him for that. He certainly hadn't been able to do it that way, begging for Dean to trust and accompany him in doing battle against Lilith right up until the very end, still needing his brother like he had for most, if not all, of his life. But he'd also needed Ruby…needed his powers…needed her blood.

Dean, however, was proving himself to be entirely different, doing it all on his own – no blood, no powers, no _brother_…_no problem_. Just an angel here and there, his GED, and his can-do attitude. The days of he and his 'trusty geek-boy sidekick' were no more but Sam figured that was all well and good at any rate, since he was pretty sure that side of him no longer even existed inside the broken, pathetic, doomed shell and shadow of a man he'd become.

The angels had it correct, without a doubt, correct where he'd had it egregiously wrong. Dean was the Winchester brother that would save the world…Sam had already fulfilled his destiny of being the one to jump start the _end_ of it.

The key finally slid into the lock, the slight trembling of the young _ex_-hunter's hands having made the first few attempts unsuccessful. But Sam wasn't fazed…he was more than used to failure by now. It was essentially all he knew.

Including what he now knew to be the biggest failure of all…the fact that he'd never gotten up the guts to just end _himself_ instead. Sam knew the future held nothing for him anymore.

Nothing _good_, at least.

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As he'd feared, it was bad. Worse than bad, really…try outright horrifying, hideous, harrowing…_hellish_. Dean had quickly come to realize this fact…but perhaps the worst part was that he had no control over any of it. The future – the year 2014 to be exact – had somehow become his present, and if he had to wager a bet, he'd say that this was supposed to be a _different_ kind of present from those thrice-damned angels that seemed to always be dogging his every move nowadays…and he cursed them for what had to have been the hundredth time, at least.

He wanted to return this present to sender.

Death and destruction ran rampant a little on down the timeline…demons were predictably everywhere, Lucifer was still on the loose, and probably half of humanity had been wiped out – typical symptoms of your normal, everyday Apocalypse. But there was also the unexpected to take into account. Like the fact that evil's weapon of choice hadn't been a series of various catastrophic natural disasters or nuclear bombs or even the dreaded swine flu…no, what it had been, what it still _was_, Dean was all-too familiar with. He and his brother had faced it what now seemed like ages ago – which was pretty accurate at least in _this_ reality, he figured – on a hunt in River Grove, Oregon.

And just his luck…that hunt had turned out to be the inevitable 'one that got away', the one supernatural killer that they'd never stopped nor even ever gotten a grasp on the hows and whys of. And this same demonically-spawned 'Croatoan' virus, as he'd come to know it, had now graduated from taking over a sleepy little town to having spread throughout the entire world, leaving millions of victims in its wake…half of them possessed through the contact of tainted blood, and half of them lying dead in their own _un_tainted blood after having been brutally murdered by those infected.

Dean continued to muse on all he had seen so far as he thoroughly cleansed a knife of its crimson stains – stains from the latest "Croat" he'd had to kill in self-defense – and wondered not for the first time if Sam would've still been immune to the disease like he'd proven to be back in Oregon, thanks most likely to the demon blood he'd already had running through his veins.

But that was for him to never know and to never find out, because apparently, as he'd oh-so callously been informed, his little brother had never made it to the year 2014.

It hurt too much to dwell on it…a soul-rending, searing ache that would likely never heal. So Dean desperately tried not to do so.

But it had thus far proven to be an impossible task. There certainly weren't many more important people left in his life – shacked up along with him in the dismal resistance compound that was Camp Chitaqua – to distract him from thoughts of who'd always been the _most _important person to him. There would be no fatherly support from Bobby, who, if the bullet hole in his wheelchair was anything to go by, had either preceded Sam in death or followed him. Castiel was thankfully still around, but it seemed that the erstwhile angel had let his one-time, Dean-prodded visit to the brothel go to his halo-free head and taken "Iniquity" for his new middle name…if he'd ever even had a _last_ one, that was. Chuck was present and accounted for too, along with his ever-growing stash of toilet paper and other assorted neurotic quirks…but they weren't nearly as fun to pick on as Sam's had been. And the rest were practically strangers to him. Unfamiliar faces and people that he would apparently come to know…and in more ways than one, in the case of quite a few of the women. And boy had that Risa chick spat fire at him for that!

Only…it hadn't exactly been _him_ that Risa was upset with. No, _that_ guy was Dean Winchester – a bold, swaggering soldier-slash-hunter with a killer attitude and lady-killer looks to match…and absolutely none of the heart. Or at least, that's how the _real_ Dean was coming to see it, and he'd sooner swallow nails than accept that this ruthless ass who shared his name and his every gene be considered the real Dean instead of him…by _anyone_. Because the real Dean wouldn't have let his baby, his loyal and cherished 1967 Chevy Impala, go to rust; the real Dean wouldn't have coldly and unremorsefully put a bullet in one of his so-called friends without first having tried to find a way to cure the man of the demonic infection that had claimed him.

And most of all, the real Dean would never have completely abandoned Sam, leaving him to die alone…or would at least still be feeling his loss like a hole in the heart to this very day. And maybe that was just what was all wrong with his future self, he ultimately considered.

The man had a hole in his heart where his baby brother used to be.

But that still didn't mean that Dean had to like him, or feel sorry for him. The bastard had made his own bed and now he had to lie in it for the rest of his miserable life, which mercifully likely wouldn't be that long with the way the Croats continued to multiply at every turn. The unsympathetic attitude he was copping in respect – or _lack thereof_ – to 2014 Dean was a familiar one though…a mere week ago, he had taken the same approach concerning Sam. He'd hardened his heart and broken his little brother's, withstood the kid's go-to emotional onslaught of the puppy-dog eyes and that soft, plaintive voice to fire back some assaults of his own that were far less docile. And some deep, dark part of him had even secretly relished the crumpling of Sam's expressive face every time he'd shot him down and refused to listen to him, going so far as to looking forward to an instance where he could go off with Cas and leave Sam behind, because in some cases turn about _was_ only fair play and damn it _who was the weak and whiny one now!_

The honest and human truth was, he had just not been able to shake the thought that Sam _deserved_ that painful bite on the ass that everything had come back to give him; just like Dean's future self, Sam had thought the battle to be more important than his brother – going his own way, using those godforsaken powers of his, and trusting that damn demon-bitch Ruby, drinking her freaking _blood_…and doing it all against Dean's wishes and advice. He had kept secret after secret, outright lied from the moment Dean got out of Hell, and kept on building the lies in the months following, ultimately resulting in a serious addiction to the demonic liquid life and a knock-down, drag-out confrontation between the two of them in a hotel suite…a fight that had ended with Dean sprawled on the floor, choked into submission, and the resurgence of the classic John Winchester ultimatum. And just like nearly ten years prior, Sam had once again walked out the door.

Dean had called his brother a monster during that fight…and at the time, he'd meant it. It was the one thing, ever since Sam had discovered he had supernatural abilities, that the youngest Winchester feared becoming to his very soul…and upon the word being said, Sam had snapped. True, Dean had no doubt that the younger man had already been frayed to a single thread by his impromptu incarceration in Bobby's panic room, but that stopped mattering the second Sam had defended that treacherous snake of a demon against Dean's thrust of her own killing blade. And it especially stopped when Sam had chosen to go with her in the end – the penultimate piss-poor decision that, for the elder sibling, had been the last straw that broke the camel's back…never mind the one that had led to the kickoff of the end of the world.

Naturally, his brother had been sorry. Sorrier and more beaten and broken that Dean had ever seen him. But it was the definitive case of too little, too late, and for Dean, a thousand apologies were just sure as hell never going to cut it…and he'd made sure that Sam knew that, too. He owed his brother the biggest 'I told you so' in history, and he had planned to collect on every bit of it.

But, at the same time, he grudgingly had to admit that he'd also owed Sam an apology of his own, because he hadn't exactly been at the top of his brotherly game ever since his return from Hell either. It was far easier to dwell and focus on Sam's mistakes, but Dean couldn't escape the fact that he himself had made some as well. Not the least of which had been leaving Sam to suffer alone in that abysmal panic room, and that ill-thought use of the word 'monster'. And finally – after a swift but ultimately needed kick in the ass from Bobby – Dean _had _apologized for it, as best he could, over the phone in a voicemail while cooling his heels in Heaven's sitting room thanks to that biggest dick of an angel since Uriel, Zachariah. But nonetheless, Sam had gone the final term with Ruby anyway, hadn't rediscovered where his heart lay after Dean had candidly poured out his own.

And that had been what hurt most of all…a hurt he'd been holding onto with a vengeance.

Because Sam had no doubt been trying his hardest to earn forgiveness…damn it, Dean _knew_ he had. Though at times able to put up a normal front, for the most part contrition and stark honesty had become his brother's new default settings and self-flagellation his new art form. He would've had to be blind to not have seen how sorry Sam was, knew that his little brother had meant every word he'd said before they'd made their fated split…that he would try with all he had in him to work out his own issues and come back a better and stronger man.

That had been why he'd decided to let Sam go in the end.

His younger sibling had – after quite a bit of harassment from Dean – eventually caught on to their current situation, proposing the parting of their ways upon understanding that neither of them were ever going to get anywhere with how things had been going and the tension still between them…and Dean had agreed. Because in spite of his, well, lingering spiteful side, he truly _had _wanted things to be right between him and Sam again…he just hadn't been sure if they ever could be.

So he'd given both Sam and him that chance, and as a consequence of it here he was…and here Sam _wasn't_.

He threw the knife he'd been cleaning in a fit of anger and grief, uncaring as to whether or not it hit any of the refugees milling around because he was the _real _Dean for God's sake and he didn't know or even truly _care_ about the lot of them when it came down to it…not like he knew and cared about Sam. And yes, he'd had his fun with Castiel of course, but not even his personal guardian angel could ultimately compare to the angel of a _different_ sort that he'd now lost, much less _replace_ him…no matter what Dean had said in the privacy of his Impala.

Their time apart should've brought about a fresh start for both of them, or have given them some much-needed breathing room at the least…but in this reality it had brought about his little brother's _end _instead, had resulted in Sam _not_ breathing anymore.

Irony was one cruel and bitter _bitch_.

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_Jerk. _Sam smiled fondly and wistfully as he sat on the bed scrolling through the few pictures of Dean he had stored on his Blackberry. Most of them, just like the ones that Dean had of Sam on his own cell, showed his brother in compromising positions and embarrassing situations, captured moments in time that had before always made Sam laugh but now served to only bring tears to his eyes. He absently wondered if Dean was sitting at some similar motel somewhere doing the same thing, or if he'd already deleted the likely unwanted reminders of what they used to have between him from his memory…both phone-wise _and_ mind-wise.

Just as he had a couple of days ago, Sam had minutes prior picked up his cell with the intention of finally contacting Dean, but had ended up chickening out…just as he had also done several times at Stanford. One thing that his family would never know was just how much he'd missed them in those years; how much he'd still wanted them both in his life, but never could seem to drown out the echoes of John's fury and Dean's stoicism from the night he walked out enough to take that first step in bridging the gap…not to mention his fear of further rejection. And one thing they would never _understand_ was that he hadn't gone to college to escape his brother and father…he had gone to escape _hunting_. And to pursue something other than what his father wanted – which had consisted mostly of absolute obedience and vengeance on the thing that had killed his wife – for a change…to for once in his life, have 'normal'. But everything that had happened since – from his beloved Jessica burning on the ceiling, to a newly-freed Lucifer proclaiming Sam to be his intended vessel – had proven to him that normal was only an illusion, especially for someone…no, some_thing_ like him. Monsters, vampires, blood-sucking _freaks_ couldn't ever have normal; they didn't deserve it.

And the same went for family…for brothers who went to freaking _Hell_ for you. Monsters didn't deserve those either. But now, thanks to his own foolishness and gullibility and blindness, he had lost the formerly unbreakable bond he'd shared with his anyway. _For good_, it seemed.

With that thought, plus the overwhelming anxiety that Lucifer could come calling at any second lodged in his brain, Sam switched off his phone, placed it aside, and began to rummage through his open duffel bag that lay beside him, extracting his laptop and one other item. He quickly brought up his email account and took about fifteen or so minutes to write Bobby Singer, his words full of apologies and appreciation for the man who had treated him like his own son throughout his life, and in many ways had been more of a father to him than even John Winchester ever was. Thankful that it was late and Bobby most likely wouldn't be awake to immediately read the email, he sent it and then started to compose a new one, this time with Dean's name in the recipient box…but then he stopped. And he thought, and in the end, he activated his Blackberry once more.

This time, there was no chickening out when he highlighted Dean's name.

As he'd feared yet ultimately expected though, he got Dean's voicemail instead of the big brother himself. Still, he soldiered on, allowing the thought that Dean had probably purposely declined to answer as soon as he saw Sam's name on the caller ID to bolster his willpower and his words as he spoke. The tears in his eyes had broken free to stream down his cheeks, causing his voice to become strangled by the time he was through leaving Dean a message similar to the one he'd sent Bobby, only magnified in intensity – sorrow, guilt, indebtedness, but most of all, _love_ as thick within his tone as the tears were – with the last part of his final sentiment cut off as he'd gone over the time limit. Dean would only be hearing a "goodb—" instead of the full word, but Sam was sure he would know what it was supposed to have been.

Turning both devices back off, he then picked up the third object he had retrieved from his bag and made his way over to the bed furthest from the door. He still habitually got rooms with two beds, and moreover slept on the bed that was designated to always be his so long ago, back when he was still ignorant of all that was really out there in the darkness…and the fact that he himself had unknowingly been part of that darkness all along. Back when Dean was there, forever ready and willing to stand between Sam and any danger that might dare to walk into the room.

But that was then. There would be no one to stand between Sam and what he was about to do now…and that was just the way he wanted it.

No one, except, possibly Lucifer, that was. The Devil had delivered the news to him personally that Sam would eventually be his vessel, that he would in due time ultimately say yes…but Sam had instantly seen one surefire way out.

'_I will kill _myself_ before I let that happen…'_

His own words, then said with such conviction and courage, resounded throughout his mind, and he wondered now why his hands were shaking so badly even as he picked up his revolver and loaded a single bullet into it. Maybe it was the fear of this only final solution not working…Lucifer had vowed to Sam that he would simply bring him back if he ever did the deed, and then what would he do? What _could_ he do? But then again, maybe it was also the fear that it _would_ work, that pulling that trigger would permanently kill him despite the Light Bringer's dark promise, and after death naturally came the afterlife. Which, for Sam, would no doubt be a second _death_ instead…_the_ Second Death, to be precise. Chuck had told him that his eyes had turned black as he was exorcising Lilith, and while it was true that he'd done some stupid things over the past few months, Sam was still smart enough to know that demons didn't to go Heaven. Nor did half-demons…and he was afraid he'd become just that.

But Sam finished loading the bullet and cocked the hammer anyway. Whatever the outcome, it was worth a shot..._in every sense of the word_.

Because in the end, it came down to the greater good for him, as always seemed to be the case…and not his own good, but that of others. That of the world…that of _Dean_. Just like with Stanford, there was something about those horrible past few months that Dean would never know or understand, and that was the core reason Sam had in his heart for going after Lilith with such vigor and determination, for drinking Ruby's blood and honing his powers against his better judgment and his brother's will for him. True, there had been some less than honorable reasons for it all – a need for revenge, for the acceptance that it had seemed he could only find with Ruby, and for the control over his own life and decisions that had previously eluded him so – but the first and foremost reason was something that he had strived as hard as he could throughout his adult life to do…trying to make something good out of his curse, to save people, and most of all, to protect Dean. And he'd known – or at least _thought_ he'd known at the time – that letting Ruby teach him how to master his psychic powers was the way to go. He'd remembered all-too well what had happened to him the last time he hadn't listened to her telling him to use them, and more specifically, what had happened to _Dean_.

And he hadn't been _about_ to make that same mistake twice…he'd been ready to do whatever it took to get Dean out of Hell, and after Castiel had done that job for him, he'd been willing to do whatever it took to keep Dean from ever going _back_. Which meant stopping Lilith, stopping the Apocalypse, and ultimately going against the angels who wanted a Dean still ravaged and plagued by nightmarish memories of his time downstairs to do those two essential tasks instead of him. But Sam had refused to let that happen – the proof was in the pudding of how badly Dean's interrogation-slash-torture session with Alastair had gone that it was doomed to get ugly – and that meant continuing to polish his powers. Continuing to trust Ruby and let her juice him up…because it was _not_ going to end sad and bloody for them if Sam could help it. At least, not for _Dean_, anyway.

The youngest Winchester had most certainly meant what he'd said to his older sibling from inside the panic room…he_ hadn't_ been drinking the demon blood just for kicks.

Sam could in fact still remember the very first time he had gotten a dose of Ruby's red, remembered the brutal encounter with demons that had left him so badly damaged, depressed, and dizzy from blood loss – with unconsciousness rapidly approaching – that he'd hardly even tasted the bitter iron flavor of the potion Ruby had given him to 'help get him back on his feet again'. And it had done just that…at the peak of Sam's first high, he had felt practically invincible and numb to any pain – physical or emotional – that may have remained from the vicious assault. He still hadn't known what it was, had figured it was just one of those things Ruby could brew up quickly whenever the need arose or merely just had on hand, like the concoction she'd used on Dean to save him from a witch's hex bag…but he'd instantly come to the realization the next time she'd administered it to him, after a considerably easier mental exorcism of a twelve year-old girl…one in which he'd been thankfully able to expel the demon without killing the victim.

Despite the relief he'd been feeling over that fact, though, he had still been initially outraged at Ruby, especially after she'd brazenly made a slice to her arm right in front of him to replenish her flask's supply. But as he'd lain in bed that night after kicking her out, his compromised mind had started analyzing and laboring, thoughts running rampant of how using his abilities – especially when enhanced with the blood – had been so much faster than having to first incapacitate the demons and then exorcise them the old-fashioned way, and how it'd also been so much cleaner and better and just overall more _heroic_ than using the knife and killing the human hosts right along with the evil beings inside them. His father had been a hero…his brother had been a hero. And Sam had known by that point that he was a hunter for life, for better or worse…what was to say that he couldn't be a hero, too? And even better…he had new hope, new _means_, of getting Dean back.

All he'd have to do was drink a little demon blood, and his influenced logic and need for justification had reminded him that he already had some in him anyway, had had it in him since he was six months old…so _why the hell not_.

'_Yeah, why the hell not, Sam,' _he reflected sarcastically with a derisive snort. It hadn't really been a question back then, only an encouraging thought, a green light to go ahead and take that risk…but God how he now wished he'd actually _asked_ himself that question and then _deliberated_ long and hard about it before answering, instead. Because it of course had all gone south from there. The nobler reasons had still stuck, yes, but along with the good feelings he'd gotten in his heart from destroying demons and saving their hosts, came the equally good feelings of power and strength that the crimson energy drink started to give him. Along with the numbing of aches and pains of all sorts came the burning need for more whenever they fought their way back to his consciousness after the blood's effects had worn off. Along with the first willing consumption…had come the eventual unwilling _addiction_. One that not even Dean's return from Hell – though it had managed to for a short time early on – had been able to completely break off and one that had _literally_ driven Sam up the wall when he'd been locked in Bobby's panic room and forced to go cold turkey.

And one that had led Sam to do the unthinkable to a possessed but innocent young woman. Technically yes, it had been Ruby to commit the final act of ending the life of Nurse Cindy McClellan and the particularly despicable demon within her skin, in order to provide a big enough dose of tainted blood for her then-still hesitant prodigy to take out Lilith…but it had been Sam who had finally given her the go-ahead after hearing Dean confirm what he already knew deep down – that Sam wasn't himself anymore, and there was no going back. It had been the decisive shove into the abyss at the end of that slippery slope, and Sam remembered having hoped to God – though He likely wasn't listening anymore to a creature like what Sam had become – that when he finally hit bottom, he would die on impact.

But he hadn't…thanks to Dean.

And that was what it ultimately kept coming back to, why Sam now had a gun in his lap ready to be fired and a face awash with tears…Dean was gone, through with his self-spoiled blight of a brother, leaving everything to deservedly come crashing down on him…and Sam could no longer see any other option but to be done, too.

Done with everything.

TBC…

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A/N: Uh…hey all, long time no see, right? *endless facepalms* I really can't apologize enough for that, but I will say I had an extremely busy and eventful 2008 and 2009, to put it simply, in a variety of ways. Some of it was _awesome_, to say the least. I've now met Jared Padalecki three times (April and September 2008 EyeCons, 2009 Vancouver Con) and just can't say enough about how wonderful he is and how much I love him; got seven autographs, seven hugs, and five photo ops from him…while _he_ now in turn also owns two of my drawings (of his dogs), both of which I got to give to him _onstage_ at the EyeCons! Such amazing experiences! I also met Jensen Ackles for the first time (2009 Vancouver Con), got a hug and autograph and photo op from him, which was also great! Not to mention I've met various other guest stars such as Jim Beaver, Gabriel Tigerman, and Chad Lindberg multiple times. I also FINALLY got a job this past summer, LOL, and it has been allowing me time to write fanfic (since it's really not much of a job, LOL…but, hey, better than nothing!), and have two new cats, strays that we've taken in, bringing my current total to three. :-D

And then, some of it was _horrible_ to say the least. I had to finally let go of Alice, my oldest cat and loyal companion of 20 years in December of 2007, and that unfortunately turned out to be just a primer for the loss of my grandfather aka "Pops" – who was like a second father to me all my life – in October of 2008, one day before his 79th birthday. It took me a LONG time to recover from that, and to add to my depression during that time was Season 4 of _Supernatural_…which was painful for me. Not so much the show itself, though, as all the fandom infighting was…it very nearly ruined the season AND the show for me. But I'm cautiously optimistic that it's gotten a little better overall now, enough to finally get back into the world of writing fanfic. I've started several stories in the past couple of years, but this is the first one that I've finished, so hopefully I'm back in the groove and can finish the rest now!

In any case, I hope you enjoy this latest one and reviews are appreciated! The story is four chapters long and already completely written, so I will be posting every other day as I did with my last one. Thanks to my LLS (long-lost sister) aka "**psiChic**" as always for the quick beta! :-)


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: So Halloween has come and gone, and I sadly didn't find _Supernatural_ or its beautiful brothers in my treat bag…but I happily didn't get slaughtered by Samhain either, so, it's all good! LOL.

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**One Shot**

PREVIOUSLY: _And that was what it ultimately kept coming back to, why Sam now had a gun in his lap ready to be fired and a face awash with tears…Dean was gone, through with his self-spoiled blight of a brother, leaving everything to deservedly come crashing down on him…and Sam could no longer see any other option but to be done, too._

_Done with everything. _

**Chapter 2**

It was all wrong, so wrong…_everything_ was so damned freakin' _wrong_ that it practically redefined the word. And yet, per usual, all Dean had managed to do was snark his way out of the shocked silence.

"So…haven't been topside long enough to learn about the 'don't wear white after Labor Day' rule, have we?"

The Devil, because that was him, freaking _Lucifer_ himself, had looked up and smirked in response to the taunt, cheeks dimpling…and Dean's heart had fought not to shatter into a million pieces. He knew those dimples, had known and cherished seeing them ever since he was four years old, just like he knew those wide, slightly tilted blue-green puppy-dog eyes, now glinting with a foreign wickedness, and that tousled mop of chestnut hair that curled a bit at the tips, now unusually slicked back from that achingly familiar face…it was all Sam, his little brother. Except in this new reality, it wasn't. Now it was all _Lucifer_, wearing his sibling like his own personal pretty evening gown in the middle of the day – not that Dean could really tell the real time, what with all the dark clouds and lightning flashing around – and distorting, _perverting_ those beloved features.

Dean had never been dumb enough to think he'd actually _like_ Satan, but may some of that lightning have struck him dead if he hadn't despised him all the more for that.

"Oh…hello, Dean. Aren't you a surprise…and quite the comedian, may I say." Lucifer had exchanged his amused smile for a look of mock-sympathy and tut-tutted, looking down at his polished white size fourteen shoe underneath which rested the snapped neck of one_ other_ Dean Winchester, circa 2014. "You know…if _he_ had been a tad funnier, I might have kept him around slightly longer…but he had no sense of humor, sadly. None at all." The dimples had appeared again for a split second. "Not ever since I slipped his poor, dear baby brother on for size, anyway...and he's a _perfect_ fit, don't you agree?"

And Dean resisted the impulse to throw up on the spot as Lucifer flauntingly ran his hands down his confiscated body – _Sam's_ body – and spoke the awful words in his brother's soft, soothing voice with speech and a tone far too breathy and proper for Sam's usual casual drawl, while perched proudly and obscenely atop his future self's corpse. Which, Dean supposed, he should've felt some sense of loss or mourning in respect to the older him, but he'd really had no time for it and, if he was being honest with himself, hadn't _really_ felt much of anything…other than anger that the man had let this happen to Sam and never even acted like he cared that it had. Along with pure, unadulterated rage toward Lucifer for daring to use his brother like that.

But the Devil hadn't even batted an eye at Dean's vehement response of "Not a chance in Hell, you evil son of a bitch," nor the daggers Dean's gaze was sure to have been shooting him at that point, and had started prattling – beginning with nauseating, almost apologetic talk of how he knew how hard it must've been for Dean to see him in Sam's body but it'd nonetheless _always _had to be Sam, followed by arrogant, sanctimonious, _bullshit _drivel about how no, he wasn't _evil_, he wasn't the real bad guy, along with whining on how God's punishment for him hadn't fit his crime, how it wasn't fair that his Father loved that lowly creation called humanity over him when he'd only ever loved his Father…all in all just a regular old unparalleled pity party. Oh, and Dean's personal favorite: that big whopper about how he didn't _really_ want to destroy the world because it was magnificent and beautiful and etcetera and so on…only the people in it. Dean had admittedly been sorely tempted to make a _Bachelor_ crack when the Devil had oh-so delicately picked up a blood red rose as he was waxing poetic about it all. But seconds ago he had just finally settled for glaring straight at that so familiarly expressive face and calling the creep an ugly, worthless, belly-to-the-ground cockroach instead…and that worked just fine for him.

Now, Dean waited for outrage…but was chagrined when Lucifer only smiled at the verbal tirade, further incensing the young hunter with his next words – a comment about how it had probably hurt Sam's feelings that Dean could look into his brother's eyes and insult him so venomously.

It was Dean's breaking point…he exploded. "YOU…are NOT my freaking brother!" His lip and his voice quivered with fury and fear. "Let him go!" _Lame. _Dean knew it was lame, but he then again he wasn't exactly thinking straight although _damn well understandably so!_ That hindrance didn't matter to Lucifer, however, because sure enough, a low, eerie chuckle met Dean's ears.

"Let him go…really, Dean? I must say…that is just too precious. Just what precisely do you propose you are going to do to force me to comply with that…rather _inane_ demand, pray tell?" The Light Bringer flicked an imaginary piece of lint off of his blindingly pristine suit. "Perhaps you will torture me until I give in, like you attempted to do with Alastair? Stunning job with that, by the way. I _would _be somewhat apprehensive…that is, if I was not wearing your beloved brother's skin. Correct me if I'm wrong, but…I highly doubt you could bear to mar this body in that manner."

Dean winced at the mere thought of it…the bastard had _that_ pegged right. For several reasons, but not the least of which was the desperate hope he still had that Sam was in there somewhere, and that Dean could somehow get Lucifer out of him – kill the Devil and leave Sam intact, body and soul. Like Sam had been able to do with some of the people he'd mentally exorcised during and after Dean's stay in Hell. The elder brother didn't give a damn about the rules anymore…he'd happily consume a gallon of demon blood at the drop of a hat if it meant he'd be endowed with that same power. He'd do _anything_ to remedy the nightmare situation currently playing out before him…anything. But he couldn't let his desperation show...he _wouldn't_. "Yeah, well…just thinkin' of my brother here. 'Cause _I_ highly doubt that Sam would wanna be all maimed and bloody when I get him back _sans you_."

"Well, well…that is some haughty talk—"

"Pot calling kettle, Luci…and tell me, what's with all the formal-speak, anyway? If you're tryin' to sound like Sam then lemme tell ya you've got some work to do…maybe start by getting that monumental stick outta your ass, go find Daddy and hug and make up and then get your damned pompous self off our planet and out of my brother!"

Lucifer sighed in a longsuffering but somehow simultaneously condescending manner, fixing Dean with an even stare. "I do believe you interrupted me ere I finished what I was saying…I was in fact preparing to go into details concerning how _there is no more Sam Winchester_."

Dean's heart dropped to his stomach, breath catching in his throat. "W-what?"

"Oh…were you not aware of that?" Lucifer replied in a mildly surprised tone, head cocked and eyes impossibly round in a sickening parody of Sam's sensitive puppy-dog expression. "My apologies…how remiss of me not to explain just exactly how the young man got to this point of…_non-existence_, we will call it. So…shall I?"

"_Demons lie_." Dean practically growled the words, and Lucifer beamed in response.

"Oh, you poor, misinformed child. Let me…_enlighten_ you." He put a hand over his – _Sam's_ – heart self-importantly. "I…am not a demon. Perhaps my prolonged stay in the lake of fire has caused some to forget this fact, but if you will recall your little earthly Bible lessons, I am certain your confusion will be cleared." He paused, as if giving Dean time to search his memory. "Do you now know what I am?"

"Yeah," the last remaining Winchester scoffed. "A dick."

"An _angel_," Lucifer corrected in an almost offended tone. Dean wasn't fazed.

"Like I said…_a dick_."

"You are mistaken." The Devil shook his head, the curls at the nape of Sam's neck brushing his white collar. "I am but merely fallen…and due to this, I am different." The soulful gaze returned. "Other angels, those who are still of my Father and Heaven…they so often do not speak the truth, as you, I believe, have come to discover for yourself." Lucifer continued on at Dean's denial-free silence. "But _I_…am not like them. I do not lie…I have no need to. I recommend that you would first hear what I have to say, and then decide whether or not I speak the truth of how I came to acquire your brother…fair deal?"

Dean knew that he should say no. He somehow knew that Lucifer was going to tell him the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth because it was likely to be piercingly painful…he_ knew_ that no was the way to go. _But… _It was going to be the _truth_. And he had to finally have the facts straight, had to know what had driven his brother to this point, what had ultimately made him say 'yes'…so he similarly gave his own consent. "Fair enough."

Lucifer nodded. "Very well." Finding a bench in the garden on which to sit in order to make his 6'4" appropriated frame less intimidating, the Devil began his tale, posture straight and hands folded primly in his lap, while Dean remained standing. "Are you aware that your recently deceased elder doppelganger over there turned your brother away five years ago, first of all?" Dean started to answer, but Lucifer cut him off. "No, no answer is needed…I can see it in your eyes. Not only are you aware…but you have already done so yourself. Back in your own time. So, I should further and more importantly ask…are you aware just how badly that wounded your brother? Wounded his heart…his very soul?"

"I didn't…he—" Again, Dean didn't get the chance to finish.

"The question was rhetorical. I know you are not…but I will assist in making you so. That, Dean, was the instant that your brother shattered. He lost all remaining hope, all belief, all faith, all trust in himself…all will to live. In that one. Fell. Swoop. Not that much remained of course, mind you."

Dean's swallow was audible. Lucifer went on.

"He truly thought you had given up on him, that you would forever refuse to find it in your heart to forgive him. It became his only mindset…that, and his perpetual, relentless guilt." He stood then, meandering over to inspect and caress more fragrant blooms of flora, his back now to Dean. "Much time passed, time in which he heard nothing from you, in which he was too fearful of rejection and further condemnation to contact you himself, and during all this time…the boy got to thinking. And I reiterate…his mindset was not a healthy one. Not for himself, at least. He believed himself to be completely worthless, unloved, a waste of breath and space…and unfortunately for him, there was of course no one there to refute these beliefs, was there?"

Lucifer turned back around, a delicate blossom in Sam's large hand, just in time to see another tear course down Dean's face. The elder sibling had a horrible feeling where this was going, and he again fought the urge to be sick.

The Devil returned to his seat and resumed his original position, along with the story. "But some time into all that thinking, a spark of hope reignited within Sam, one that he pursued like his life depended on it…which is a tragically ironic analogy, really."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Shhhh…patience." Lucifer held out a calming hand, and then continued, placing it back in his lap to recommence lightly caressing the plucked red rose. "It means, that Sam came to think the only way he could make a _good_ difference in the world…was if he stopped me. Much like he did with Lilith and the sixty-six seals, he felt obligated to do it in your stead, so that you would not have to get your hands dirty, shall we say…or get hurt. Not because he thought you were inadequate, though, and certainly not because he wanted the glory for himself…but simply because he cared, rather. Cared about _you_. _Loved_ you…far, far more than he ever loved or cared about himself. Does this sound…_familiar_ to you?"

Dean's speechlessness was all the answer needed. It sounded exactly like _him_…he had just never truly considered that it was a two-way street. At least not one with respect to the fact that the intensity and devotion that Sam felt toward Dean and his welfare could possibly be equal to what he felt towards Sam.

"I thought so. Only, you still feel…_superior _to Sam in your love for your brother, do you not? Because after all…you sold your soul for him. You went to Hell for him."

Swallowing thickly, Dean could do nothing but remain silent at the accusation, and Lucifer took it as an invitation to elaborate. "Tell me, big brother…" The Devil's stare remained level even upon Dean's flinch and baleful glare. "Do you really think it was Heaven up here on Earth in those four months for your precious Sam? Do you think he was out living it up, finding a different woman every night, joyriding around in your prized vehicle belting out songs at the top of his lungs, songs from that little music device that you were so outraged he dare install? Do you really, honestly think that _he didn't miss you_?"

Again, Dean had no answer…at least not the answer he wanted to be able to give in the situation. It was true that he had reacted badly to the iPod being in his Impala, and the girl – who of course turned out to be Ruby – in his brother's motel room. Both things suggested that Sam had moved on without him, had done the one thing Dean hadn't been able to do, and it had awakened and activated every molecule of his low self-worth and yes, had caused him to become a bit…_defensive_.

Strangely enough, Lucifer had _also _exhibited that very same sentiment upon his last question, showing exasperation and resentment toward Dean in his tone of voice and gaze for the first time, even after Dean having called him a cockroach. It was almost as if Satan felt for Sam, maybe even felt Sam's own emotions on the subject in relation to _himself_…and it deeply unsettled the elder Winchester.

"Well, again, I can answer that for you, Dean…that was _exactly_ what you thought." Lucifer rose from his seat upon the words, approaching Dean at a menacingly slow pace to get his point across with the maximum level of intensity and effectiveness. "And that made you angry…envious. So you lashed out…drew first blood, as it were. First emotionally with your constant cutting remarks…then physically with your fists. Sam may have been dishonest with you from the moment you returned from my former prison…but coincidentally, that is also the moment your rash accusations began…true though some of them did turn out to be. Your brother, Dean, was not the only guilty party in building the lies between you, but you have never acknowledged this fact, have you? Or…really even considered it to begin with."

Sorrow and disappointment crossed his brother's familiar features, and for a moment, Dean dared hope… "_Sam_?"

Satan's look was deceptively contrite yet again. "Oh, no Dean…my apologies for confusing you. There is still no Sam in here. However, being that I have been so…_intimate_ with him over the past two years, I am very much in touch with his feelings concerning past events, and let me inform you…you hardly have the market cornered on low self-worth. Or…on self-_sacrifice_. And you can take this from me, as I have come to know Sam's heart…his _soul_. He was being truthful when he told you that you had never known him and never would…so if you _want_ to truly know him, too little too late though it is, _listen closely_."

Dean complied, taking an involuntary step back as Lucifer finally came within mere feet of him, pinning him with a stern blue-green stare. As much he didn't want to hear any of these facts coming straight from the Devil's mouth, Sam was gone now…he didn't have any other option or source. "I'm listening."

"Bravo…that is a rarity." Lucifer's barb had the desired effect as Dean winced guiltily. "I assume that I do not need to explain Sam's four months alone to you…how harrowing and hollowing they were, how he loathed himself more and more with every second he drew breath…and how he wished to the very depths of his being that it was him rather than you just as often. Now, I do not consider that as…_enjoying_ life, do you?" The Devil paused for some kind of dramatic effect, apparently, and Dean wisely kept his mouth shut. Lucifer nodded approvingly.

"Of course, Sam told you most of these things…not that you seemed all that affected by them. I am relatively positive, in fact, that you felt more anger over all that had transpired rather than empathy for Sam most of the time. So you never questioned any of it again, did you? You were sure that you had all the facts, when in reality, all the things that Sam told you were only the tip of the iceberg. A watered down version of events…no emotions or reasons involved. Because that is all you cared to be told at the time. You never asked about the little issues, such as the music device that Sam merely installed because that car of yours only allowed for cassette tapes, and he could not bear to either listen to your music or to drive in the suffocating silence...both brought back memories much too painful. Nor did you inquire about the larger issues, such as Sam tainting himself with Ruby…in more ways than one. And if you think Sam had ever sought to or – Heaven forbid – _succeeded _in replacing you with her, you are sorely mistaken. Your brother may have needed Ruby, but never like he needed you. Ruby was merely a means to an end…are you aware of what that end was?"

"No," Dean answered stoically, deep down fearing the answer. A fear that, if Lucifer had picked up on, he didn't show.

"Protecting you, Dean. Fighting for you…_not_ against you." An unreadable look crept into Sam's orbs upon the statement, and whether it was his little brother somehow shining through or Lucifer was once more feeling the hurt of his own history with the heavenly legions in relation to Sam's hurts, Dean couldn't tell. But Lucifer was undeterred. "He needed Ruby, you see…but he needed _and_ loved _you_. He saw how Hell changed you, weakened you…but contrary to what that siren made you believe, he never looked down on you for it. Or blamed you for it…he only ever blamed _himself_. It was why he let himself fall in the first place; you were gone, suffering for him…he wanted to return that favor, felt obligated to do it. So he went on the most dangerous hunts he could find in those solo months, hoping with every one of them that he would be killed and sent to join you. But then Ruby entered the picture…and not only did she save him from the demons that night, she _also_ saved him from putting a bullet into his own brain."

"No…w-what?" Dean stammered. _Oh God…_

"Exactly what I told you," Lucifer replied coolly. "Ruby kept him alive that night, and she continued to keep him alive. You have always thought him to be inhuman for letting her into his life the way he did, but the truth is…he was all-_too_ human in having done so. He needed someone to be there for him when you were unable to be…and Ruby was just that. She was also what your surrogate father figure could not be – a being that could help Sam, but one whom he had no debilitating fear of losing like he lost you…like he lost your father…like he lost Jessica. And Ruby played her role to perfection, so it was no wonder that Sam opened his mouth to receive her…_special potion _one dark night when he was on the brink of oblivion after a rather violent demon assault. After all, he trusted her to give him the best medicine…and that she did."

Dean's stomach dropped. "You mean…he didn't _know_ he was being given demon blood the first time?"

"Ah, so _now_ you finally ask," Lucifer said with a slight sneer. "No, he did not…but he certainly knew every time following that. And he stopped caring. After all, he was killing demons and saving the hosts…finally making something of his miserable life. But it wasn't enough…because you still remained in your eternal punishment. So he took more, and more, and more from Ruby, hoping to eventually become powerful enough to deliver you from Hell…while he concurrently _gave_ more, and more, and more to her, as well, it should be noted. More of his trust, more of his time…more of his whole self. And then you came back…but it was too late. By that time, he had already become addicted to the rush, to the power, to the quest of destroying Lilith…and moreover, he remained terrified of losing you to death and Hell again. Oh, he did cease for that short time as he told you he intended to do, but once you had confessed to him how resigned you were to death, to a tragic ending? Well…he fell right back off that proverbial wagon. And it was a hard fall, because once he had that first taste after so long going without? He was once again adrift upon his vice's stormy billows. And he, like you, was resigned to losing himself to the fight…but also like you, he cared not that he was lost…just as long as _you_ were not. The apple truly doesn't fall far from the tree, as they say, because Sam's crime was the same as yours. Not caring too little about his brother…but caring _too much_."

Dean was dumbfounded, stunned at the revelations. A part of him instinctively screamed not to believe a word coming out of Lucifer's mouth, but _God help him_, it all made sense, it all clicked, and deep in the half of his heart that was left after the loss of Sam in this reality, he knew he was being told the absolute, uncensored truth. And whether Sam had held back – or hell, even told his boldfaced lies – out of either fear for himself or fear _of _himself, of his words wounding Dean, was still an unknown…maybe both. But it no longer mattered. It hurt either way…but not the same way it had _been_ hurting. In place of the previous outrage he had felt toward his brother, he now only felt heartache for him, and braced himself for what Lucifer would say next.

"Now yes, admittedly, some of Sam's actions and reactions to you over those months made it seem like the exact opposite. He did become rather…_inconsiderate_ to your feelings and wishes at times in that desperate quest to save you and _keep_ you safe, but you cannot honestly say that the same was not true in respects to you and your crossroads deal, now, can you? You could not last without your brother for even a mere week…Sam had to last without you for _four months_. And you foolishly thought that it would not change him for the worse…that you would find the same little brother you left to fend for himself upon your return?" Lucifer's gaze was piercing, made even more so by the fact that it was Sam's eyes he was using…and Dean couldn't move as the Devil laid things bare for him to finally see and understand. "Your younger sibling only followed in your footsteps, Dean, much like you followed in your father's…Sam's path was simply just a longer one than both of yours to tread. Besides…turnabout is fair play, after all. Correct?"

Dean's breath and heart quickened. "Y-you don't get it! I couldn't let him die, I had to save him, he died because I was too late to—"

"Just as it was – or rather, just as Sam _saw_ it to be – the night the hellhounds came to collect. But your situation was much different…because not only were you dead, but _you_…were _in Hell_. Sam had full assurance that you were in unspeakable agony, and I repeat…he had to live with it for four. Whole. Months. While you, on the contrary, mourned his loss for those three days with this slightest bit of hope that there was indeed a Heaven and Sam had gained entry into it…not that it had any merit in the end, of course. For even with that possibility of paradise and peace, you yanked him right back into the torment of the land of the living…because _your_ pain and grief was _that_ all-consuming. So, do tell me…what do you think it was like for your brother?"

_Hell…I think it was like Hell… _Dean couldn't speak through the huge lump in his throat, and Lucifer finally moved in for the kill, now only inches away from the elder brother's shocked and newly tear-soaked face. "The bare, remaining fact is, Dean Winchester, that you _both_ sold your souls to demons for each other. The only difference was that Sam sold his soul piece by piece, day by day, good intention by good intention and misguided action by misguided action…rather than with just one kiss."

_Oh my God, how could I have…Sammy… _Dean's insides twisted and roiled with queasiness and remorse, leaving him wide open and raw for Lucifer's conclusion.

"And that brings us all the way back to the beginning of our Sam-saga…and the end of your brother's long, hard road, when he finally said yes to me. Two years ago in a warehouse in Detroit, when you and your resistance troops were losing, when the world was just starting to transform to my will…when your brother finally got the bright idea that he could stop it all, by sacrificing himself to me…and later, to you."

"But…but that makes no sense, w-what—" Dean's voice, wavering with terror and tension, was cut off.

"Oh, it was quite distressing, really…Lilith all over again. Your brother thought he had the advantage, an advantage that no one else would have…thanks to his abilities and awareness. He trusted you, of course, but he rightfully did not trust my former brothers…nor did he want you caught in the crossfire any longer. So he approached me, with the very fatal mindset that he had a chance against me. That he could…_control_ me using those parlor-trick powers and his knowledge of the way things were…attack me from the _in_side rather than the _out_side. Unlike any other _normal_ vessel could've ever had the capability to do."

"I don't…I don't understand."

"Then let me spell it out for you. Sam granted me entry; with the hope that once we were merged he could somehow subdue me and take the reins long enough to bring me to _you_." Lucifer twitched Sam's lips in a brief sardonic smile. "It was, after all, a futile and infinitely foolish prospect that _I _would ever bend my _own_ neck to Michael's sword wielded by your hand…so he concluded that the only chance to finally defeat me was to perform this act _for_ me, and in spite of me. Thereby…sacrificing _his_ own neck, in the process."

The Devil put a gentle hand to Dean's cheek, and he shuddered at the so-familiar yet alien touch, frantically trying to pull himself together in preparation for the parting shot. But no preparation could've ever been enough.

"You see, Dean," his brother's stolen voice intoned softly, false sympathy oozing from every pore, "Sam had reached the end. He'd lost everything and everyone, not the least of which was you… your_ love_. And he had only one thing left to gain…the final, last-breath knowledge that he had helped to save humanity instead of only having helped condemn it. Of course, unfortunately for him…he was not _remotely_ powerful enough to contain me, noble as his effort was. But _fortunately_ for him…_he's dead now_. At peace. So he need not worry about any of it any longer…nor need you worry about _him_."

Two pats to Dean's cheek, and the Devil backed away, a light smirk punctuating the killing blow. "I have your beloved Sam now, big brother…I have him now. And I will take good care of him…for always."

"No…" Dean shook with rage and grief, but nevertheless, he wasn't about to let Lucifer get in the last word. "_No_! You're wrong, you vile, disgusting _monster_…you _don't_ have him now because you're never _gonna _get him. Because I won't _let_ you this time. I'm gonna change it, _all of it_, when I go back and you'll never touch a hair on his head much less ever get inside him…I swear as much to your former Father and I swear on my own life."

Lucifer looked taken aback only for a moment, then recovered, teasingly running one hand through Sam's long locks in mockery of Dean's solemn vow with a sickeningly sweet and innocent expression upon his face. "We shall see, Dean Winchester…we shall see. Maybe."

"Oh there ain't no maybe about it, asshole."

"No…there really isn't, is there. But not in the way that you think." The Devil squared off with the hunter one final time. "Because you see, Dean, it comes down to this – whatever you do…you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make…whatever details you alter, _we_ will always end up..." A pause, and an all-encompassing spread of Sam's long arms emphasized the last word. "Here."

Dean had never hated a creature so badly in all his years. The so-called Light Bringer, whether he sensed this or not, smirked victoriously, turning his back on the livid hunter. "I win, so…I win."

"You're wrong," Dean challenged, fury making his words and clenched fists quake.

Lucifer turned back around one final time at that, pretend pity radiating from Sam's wide blue-green eyes and a saccharine smile on his lips, before walking away, bidding his nemesis his own twisted version of a farewell with an ominous, "See you in five years, Dean." And the elder Winchester could only watch him vanish in a flash of lightning, watch _Sam_ vanish… but it didn't last for long. Before Dean could even draw a breath to reply or protest, he suddenly found himself face-to-face with none other than Zachariah…and back in his own time.

TBC…

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A/N: So uh, I'm a little nervous about this chapter, got to admit…I do _not_ want people to take it the wrong way simply because it brings to light a lot of Dean's mistakes; it is NOT a slam on his character and I hope it didn't come across that way. I like to think of it more as a character study in respects to him, because even though he's a great character with several things about him to love, fact is, he does not walk on water, and to me, it's a disservice to his complex character to portray and assert him as entirely blameless. He's only human, and he's got some faults in what happened between the brothers…he did some things and said some things that were _understandable_, but ill-thought and wrong nonetheless. And of course, all this stuff goes for Sam too. BOTH boys made some major errors last season, especially with each other and themselves, but I sincerely believe that both of them deserve to be forgiven – _by_ each other_ and_ themselves – because even though they both screwed up, they were also both majorly screwed _with_. If anyone is _entirely _at fault for the whole mess, it's the outside forces, the demons _and_ the angels, to me.

So I really hope people see the content of this chapter for what it is…a confrontation that finally puts Dean on even ground with Sam in _self-awareness_ of what happened between them, how they are each to blame in just about every issue, but also each deserve sympathy, consideration, and forgiveness for all those issues, and overall.

Many thanks again to my LLS for the beta and BIG thanks to those who have read and alerted/favorited or reviewed! The feedback is greatly appreciated, no need to be shy! I promise this Kitty doesn't don't scratch or bite unless seriously provoked! LOL. Next chapter will be up Friday. :-)


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: I promised Lilith I would give her scores of lollipops in exchange for her giving me _Supernatural_…all little girls like lollipops, right? But she seemed to prefer _human heads_ on sticks over candy on sticks…so I promptly cancelled that transaction!

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**One Shot**

PREVIOUSLY: _Lucifer turned back around one final time at that, pretend pity radiating from Sam's wide blue-green eyes and a saccharine smile on his lips, before walking away, bidding his nemesis his own twisted version of a farewell with an ominous, "See you in five years, Dean." And the elder Winchester could only watch him vanish in a flash of lightning, watch Sam vanish… but it didn't last for long. Before Dean could even draw a breath to reply or protest, he suddenly found himself face-to-face with none other than Zachariah…and back in his own time._

**Chapter 3**

_2:08 AM…damn it._ Bobby Singer rolled his eyes at the bedside clock's glowing red numbers, numbers which informed him he hadn't even gotten two hours of sleep before insomnia had reared its ugly head once again. It had been happening a lot lately, especially ever since the demon formerly known as Meg and her crew showed up and tried to get him to kill his eldest surrogate son. He had, thank God, overpowered the demon's will at the last second though, saving Dean but consequently condemning himself to permanent paralysis, according to the doctors' diagnosis. Not even that idjit so-called angel Castiel had been able to do a damn thing for him, although Bobby couldn't help but be suspicious that he was holding back in his most cynical moments…which were becoming more frequent thanks to the new disability, he realized.

"Damn useless slabs of meat," he cursed his now defunct legs as he hauled himself out of bed and into his waiting wheelchair using only his arms. It had been a process that had taken some getting used to, but like most things in his life Bobby hadn't stopped working at it until he had become an expert, with the wary hospital staff aiding him along the way…along with the Winchester boys, of course. The brothers had come to visit him often at the hospital, both more emotionally broken than Bobby was physically…and the bond between them hadn't fared any better. He had seen them at odds before, of course…they were siblings after all. But this had been different; he had never seen them so…_distant_. Not that it wasn't understandable…a lot of shit had happened to them and _between _them, and that was an understatement. Even in light of all the apocalyptic crap though, the salvage yard owner had known something else monumental was coming….something he had never before seen and had never _wanted_ to see. And sure enough, he'd been right.

The brothers had split, voluntarily on both sides, and now Sam was off alone and distraught at some motel in Nowheresville, Oklahoma last he heard, while Dean was apparently having a grand old time with Castiel if his phone conversations with the elder Winchester were anything to go by. It was nowhere near right, imagining someone else other than Sam – especially a godforsaken _angel_ – in the Impala's passenger seat cruising around with Dean and fighting alongside him, no more right than any time he imagined Sam gallivanting about with Ruby during and after Dean's stay in the pit. And Dean and Castiel aside, he was also loathe to imagine Sam on his own. The boy could attract all things supernatural and sometimes even evil humans to him like flies to honey, though whether that was due to the demon blood he had swimming around in his system, or the light and goodness that nonetheless still shone from his troubled soul, was a toss-up. Maybe both…but Bobby tended to believe the latter most of all.

In fact, not a day went by that he didn't feel regret and an itch to kick himself over how he'd buried himself in the bottom of bottles after they'd buried Dean, leaving Sam in the lurch and without a single defensive shield against that demon-bitch Ruby's master manipulation. Bobby's heart may have been a raw, open wound at that point, but even so he should've known that Sam's was in even worse shape and done something to help, no matter how many times the kid tried to push him away. But instead, his sorry, alcohol-numbed self had allowed Sam to do that very thing, and it was the younger man and his brother that were now paying for it with interest instead of the old hunter himself. Because when it came down to it, the paralysis was nothing compared to the mental and emotional anguish the boys had gone through…and still _were_ going through. And Bobby could only pray that their recent split didn't prove to be permanent, that both boys came to their senses soon…lest he have to knock their thick heads together. Though…exactly whom or what he was praying to was a mystery even to him, since God had apparently left the building.

Sighing deeply, the old hunter wheeled himself into the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water and some Unisom. He usually preferred to go the old fashioned remedy route on such matters, such as warm milk or soft music, but enough was enough…he just wanted the void that only deep sleep could bring as soon as possible. Once he had his desired items in hand, he parked himself at the table where he decided to boot up his laptop for a bit of internet surfing, figuring that television wouldn't hit the spot since half of what was on at such a late hour would likely be infomercials…not that he ever watched that much television anyway.

"_You've got mail."_

_Huh. _The electronic voice surprised him, being that he'd already checked his email before attempting to go to bed a couple hours ago. _Looks like I'm not the only one pullin' the graveyard shift tonight..._ Curious, he brought up his account and keyed in his current password – 'rumsfeldlives4ever' – and then went straight to his inbox to see that the new message had been sent by… "Sam?"

For some unknown reason, Bobby felt a pit of unease open up within him. It wasn't like either of the boys hadn't sent him emails or even placed phone calls to him in the dead of night before, especially when it was an emergency or they just forgot they were in a different time zone than his like the idjits they could sometimes be…but maybe it was the message's title that was getting him. It simply read, "Thanks, Bobby". _What the hell's the kid thankin' me for...? _He couldn't remember having done anything for Sam lately that was particularly worthy of written gratitude, other than setting the boy straight that when he'd told him to 'lose his number' it had most assuredly been the _demon_ talking and not him…but Bobby couldn't have _not_ done that. He hadn't been just trying to make Sam feel better when he'd said he'd never cut him out of his life…he meant that down to his old bones. Sam was just as much of a son to him as Dean was and no matter what the kid had done, he'd wanted him to know that he'd always be welcome at Singer Salvage Yard.

Thinking back to the last conversation he'd had with Sam though, he couldn't really find the answer there either, unless Sam was thanking him for unsuccessfully trying to kick his rear back into hunting gear…but since that conversation had ended with Sam hanging up on him in the throes of despair, he reckoned that the youngest Winchester would've been more apt to title the letter "Sorry, Bobby" instead. So it was with trepidation that Bobby opened the email…and found not only a slew of much more _comprehensive_ apologies and thank yous, but something a whole hell of a lot more gut-wrenching…and heart-stopping. "Oh, SHIT…damn it no you _don't_, kid!"

Stomach churning with horror, Bobby spun away from the table and raced at fast as his wheels could carry him for the phone…all the while fervently praying to that same anonymous deity that the intended recipient of the frantic call would pick up.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Son of a bitch!" Dean angrily slung his phone into the empty passenger seat. Mere days ago that seat had been occupied by Castiel, but the elder Winchester's eyes had been fully opened and now he knew…that seat truly belonged to no one but Sam. The little brother with whom he currently couldn't get in touch because there was no damn service out in the hick-sticks of wherever-the-hell-he-was. Hell, there seemed to be no _civilization_ ahead for miles, and Dean wondered why Castiel had chosen the land that time apparently forgot as their designated meeting place. But then again…it _was _Castiel.

Despite that small frustration, though, all Dean could now feel was an overwhelming sense of gratitude and relief toward the angel, both of which he had expressed as soon as he'd realized Cas had zapped him free from Zachariah. It was beyond him how two members of the same divine species could be so drastically different – one for the most part helpful, if at times a little vague and socially awkward, and the other ruthless, scheming, smarmy, and _anything_ but helpful. The latter angel had indeed been responsible for Dean's visit to the year 2014, as he'd suspected, and had the gall upon bringing him back to rant at him about how every one of the horrors contained within it had gone down all thanks to Dean's refusal to play archangel condom to Michael. But Dean hadn't needed Zach's help in finding out where he – and subsequently, the whole future – went wrong…and it had nothing to do with him saying no to the angels. The whole point of Zach's intervention had been to teach him a lesson, and he had certainly learned one…just not the one that Zach had wanted him to learn. And he'd told the ass of an angel precisely that. Zach had been just starting to lose his cool when Castiel had snatched him – a Castiel who was back to his old, morally uptight self, thank God. Or, well…thank _whoever_.

Now Dean knew what he had to do, more than ever, and anxiously awaited the moment when his cell would be back in business…he had a brother to talk to. Maybe the Light Bringer was an appropriate enough name for the Devil after all, because evil incarnate though he may have been, he had definitely brought to light all of Dean's mistakes concerning Sam…and it was finally clear to Dean that his little brother wasn't _solely _responsible for any of it. The freeing of Lucifer, but moreover, the splintering of their bond as brothers, had been _both_ their faults, not just Sam's, and easier though it was on Dean it just wasn't right or fair to let Sam take all the blame and bear all the guilt and weight of the end of the world…which was something the kid had been doing from the moment they'd escaped the convent. But big brother planned on putting a stop to that right away, along with making his own necessary apologies and owning up to the role he played in breaking the first seal in Hell...painful as that memory was to talk about. He'd just have to keep in mind that it couldn't have been any easier for Sam to have talked about his four months alone or any of the other things_ he_ had recently owned up to with full honesty, and suck it up…and if it got Sam back to him, he would gladly do it.

And he would also try to put a leash on his anger and bitterness, while he was at it. It still remained, of that there was no doubt…he was only human, after all. But contrary to what he'd told the kid in the horrible past months, so was Sam, demon blood addiction or no…and he deserved a chance. He would hear his brother's side of the story for the first time since Sam had spilled the beans about his solo sessions, and this time, there would be no snarky comments, no tuning Sam out to focus on his own problems, no cruel digs, and most importantly of all, no punches thrown. He was confident that his little brother knew he was sorry for the constant verbal and sometimes physical aggression he was prone to showing since his return from Hell, and ultimately forgave him…just as he knew that Sam was sorry for his own instances of these things, especially the words said while under the siren's influence and the hotel suite brawl while under the demon blood's, though Dean was having a bit harder of a time forgiving those. But where there was once no desire and no feeling of obligation for the elder sibling to come around, now there was want and determination. He and his brother had been separated long enough by the space between them – a wide chasm formed by bad decisions, their own stubborn natures, and even some things beyond their control, like the outside forces of Heaven and Hell that even now were ceaselessly and shamelessly still working to pull them apart. Now, it was high time not only to start building the bridge back to each other, but to cross it, once and for all.

"Hang on, kiddo," Dean murmured aloud. "I'm com—_whoa_!"

The sounds of Dean's latest classic rock ringtone suddenly filled the previously silent Impala, and the hunter was relieved by the return of cell service. It meant he could call Sam, just as soon as he talked to…Bobby, according to the caller ID. _Huh. He's up unusually late…better see what _else _is up. _But the Winchester hadn't gotten two words of casual greeting out of his mouth before Bobby's panicked voice penetrated his ears.

"_Save it, Dean, I've been tryin' to get a hold of ya for five damn minutes! Where's Sam, is he with you?" _

"Well, nice to speak to you too, Bobby," Dean huffed in annoyance. "Should I take a hint and---"

"_No, you take a _listen_. If Sam isn't with you, then get to him. NOW. Is he?"_

Butterflies suddenly came to life in Dean's stomach. "No, Sam's not here…Bobby, what's goin' on, you're freakin' me out."

"_Then you know how I feel now, 'cause the email your brother just sent me is freakin' the _hell_ outta me!"_

"What…? What's that's supposed to mean…what'd the message say?" And apparently, the little colorful winged insects had grown some claws and teeth since the last time they'd made their presence known.

"_Kid, I'm not gonna elaborate or sugarcoat it 'cause I'm afraid there's no time. But everything that boy wrote was screamin' suicide to me."_

The butterflies died a painful death when Dean's stomach bottomed out. "Suicide? What…oh God, Bobby…where is he, do you know?!" The elder brother had already slammed on the brakes, car squealing onto the shoulder of the road to frantically await the salvage yard owner's answer.

"_If I knew I'd be on my damn way to him, wheelchair or no! First thing I did was try his phone but the kid's got it turned off…I've got no way of trackin' him!"_

"DAMN IT! Shitshitshit…okay, just think, there's gotta be _something_ we—"

"_Damn right there's somethin', and that somethin' is for you to holler for that feathered friend of yours and get him to find the boy!"_

"I can't, Bobby, we've got the damn sigils on us, I have to contact Cas by freakin' cell phone now for God's sake! And the same goes for Sam…we're both hidden from all angels, even Cas." Dean took a shaky breath and slammed his hand on the steering wheel in a fit of frustration and frenzy…every second they wasted could mean the difference between life and death for Sam, and they'd already wasted far too many. "Okay, the last time I talked to him he was driving, didn't say where he was headed but if you know where he was last maybe we could---"

"_The Plainsview Motel, Salina, Kansas, Room 13!"_

"Is where he was last?"

"_No! S'where he is _now_!"_

Though Dean hesitated to answer in his surprise, he didn't hesitate for one second to burn rubber back onto the road. "The hell…? Is that just a guess? How did you---"

"_I read all the way to the end of the message." _

"And it didn't occur to you to do that before?!" Dean balked. Bobby, in turn, bristled.

"_I panicked, Dean! Only three fourths of the way through it was clear 'nough that the boy was planning to end his own life, an' I understandably didn't wanna spend time readin' the rest that I could be spendin' STOPPIN' the damn kid instead!"_

"Okay, okay, I get it!" surrendered Dean. "But why did he tell you where…oh, _oh God…_" Bile rose in the young hunter's throat, and it was obvious from Bobby's suddenly softened tone that he knew Dean had answered his own unfinished question.

"_He was lettin' me know where to pick up the body, son. Said he didn't wanna chance bein' found by some regular ole' Joe an' be taken to a hospital morgue 'fore he was buried... 'cause them people wouldn't know to salt n' burn 'im." _

"Oh God…" _Oh God, Sammy… _Dean could barely swallow past the huge lump in his throat. "Bobby…Kansas…it'll take me hours to get there, what if I…? What if I don't…make it in time?"

"_M'sorry, Dean…all you can do is try, son. And break every speed limit from here to there along the way."_

And suddenly, a light bulb went off in Dean's head. "No… No, there's one other thing I can try. But I've gotta get off here, Bobby, I'll…I'll call you. Either way."

"_Good luck, kid. I'll be waitin' to hear from ya...and your idjit little brother too."_

"Thanks, Bobby." Dean ended the call and immediately pulled up another number, the most recent addition to his list.

And if that angel dared not answer the instant he heard the ring, then, well…_God help him._

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Castiel sat on the roadside, contemplating the recent turns of events. He supposed he should've moved on some time ago, back to his quest of finding his Father and back to the grind of just trying to stop Armageddon in general, but spiriting Dean away from his former superior Zachariah had taken a lot out of him, especially ever since he'd been severed from Heaven and the divine powers it bestowed. Not to mention what he'd done prior to that…

A shrill ring cut off his ruminations, and he realized it came from the device Dean had given him…his 'cell phone'. The angel extracted the small object from his trench coat pocket and looked at the lighted display. _Speaking of the man himself… _Having gotten the hang of the mechanisms over time, he pressed the 'TALK' button.

And after five seconds had passed, he recalled that he was supposed to be the first to speak. "Ah…hello?"

"_Cas, it's me. Listen, have you left our little meeting spot yet?"_

Castiel was somewhat taken aback by the urgent tone in Dean's voice, and answered with confusion in his own. "No…I have not. I'm seated here…enlarging my batteries, I believe the phrase goes?"

A pause, then, _"Close enough. Well if you're still there, DON'T LEAVE. I'm coming back to you."_

The angel's blue eyes narrowed. "May I ask the reason for this return?"

"_It's Sam, Cas. I need to you to zap me to him, and I need you to do it now."_

"Is he in danger? From demons?" Castiel heard his human charge swallow thickly on the other end of the line.

"_Not from demons…from _himself_."_

"The addiction, then."

"_No, worse…he's gonna commit suicide, Cas. If he hasn't already."_

Shock flooded the heavenly being's normally stoic features…this wasn't how he'd expected things to go, and surely this wasn't how his Father meant for things to go…was it? Surely his Father believed that the young Winchester deserved a second chance, a chance to be saved…as Castiel himself had come to believe. What Dean didn't yet know, and would likely never know was that the future he'd seen hadn't been _all_ Zachariah's workings. Castiel had pulled some strings of his own, had stepped on Zachariah's pompous toes unbeknownst to the more powerful angel and used what he could of his remaining abilities to alter the way Lucifer presented himself to Dean as he possessed future-Sam. He had seen into Sam's heart and soul when he'd touched the young man to put the sigils on his ribs, and what he had seen was tragic but hardly monstrous…he'd had to make sure that Dean saw it that way too. Not that Dean thought of Sam as a monster to any degree anymore, of course…but issues clearly still festered between the brothers. Castiel had been dismayed when he'd asked Dean where Sam was and Dean had replied so indifferently, and he'd outright had to leave when the older sibling had started into the proclamations of how he was glad that Sam was gone…the angel just could no longer support such flagrant dishonesty.

After all, he knew he had been a participant in that for far too long himself when he'd worked for Zachariah without compunction…keeping secret the vital fact that killing Lilith was the final seal until it was too late, sneaking into Bobby Singer's panic room and deliberately releasing a strung-out Sam, leaving an undeserving Anna to be punished for calling him out on his wrongdoings, and finally, helping to keep Dean contained in the green room…until his guilt and previously shunted aside sense of right had finally gotten the better of him and he'd defied his corrupt boss by freeing Dean and sacrificing himself to the archangel. He knew that he owed Dean a great deal, Sam too, and he intended to repay every bit of it any way that he could.

And in the most recent case, that had meant using his powers to coax the brothers back together. Castiel knew that the split was temporarily needed for both of their sakes, but he also knew that if the split proved to be permanent, it would be disastrous…not only for the brothers, but for the world as well. It seemed that Sam had done much self-reflecting in his time apart from Dean and learned his lesson…but Dean had been a much harder sell. Castiel sensed tragedy was on the horizon if Dean continued to deny Sam's request to reunite and to deny what his own heart wanted in the process, so he had accumulated all the knowledge he'd gained of the youngest Winchester's inner workings and history and channeled it into Zachariah's manifestation of the Light Bringer, figuring if Dean wouldn't listen to Sam's side of the story from his brother's own mouth, he'd just have to hear it from someone else's…even the Devil himself. Though technically, it _was_ still Sam's mouth, of course…

But apparently, he'd been too late in this endeavor as well, if what Dean had just told him was any indication. Dean's increasingly impatient voice snapped him back to the present.

"_Cas? CAS! Answer me, you still there?!"_

"I am here, Dean. Just…thinking." The angel cringed as the hunter's voice exploded in his ear.

"_Well now's not the time to think, Cas, now's the time to give me a freakin' answer! Can you do it or should I just keep driving?!"_

The angel sighed. He wasn't yet fully recovered from his recent efforts, and he wasn't entirely certain he could accomplish this task on top of them. But he couldn't not at least make the attempt. "I will do my best, Dean. Do you know where your brother is?"

"_No, Cas, I was just gonna spread out a map of the country and close my eyes and point!"_

Castiel's brow furrowed. "Forgive me, Dean, but…I highly doubt that the odds of locating the exact place where Sam is using this method are—"

"_Oh for God's sake, Cas, is there no sarcasm in Heaven? Yes I know where Sam is, he's at the—"_

"Tell me when you get here, Dean," the angel interrupted. "I will be expecting you." And with that he disconnected the call, needing to fully concentrate on recuperating as much energy as possible for the job ahead while waiting.

He didn't have to wait long. The sound of a powerful engine came rumbling in the distance only minutes after he'd put the cell phone back in his pocket, gravel kicking up in the wake of the Impala's tires as she tore up the road to where Castiel stood patiently. The black beauty eventually screeched to a complete stop, its owner immediately slamming the gear into 'park' and killing the engine before nearly throwing himself out the door, barely even bothering to shut it behind him.

"Do it, Cas," Dean ordered as he stalked up to the angel. "I don't have another second to lose and neither does Sam, he's at the Plainsview Motel in Salina, Kansas. I'll call you when I…when _we_, Sam and I, wanna come back."

"Very well, Dean," Castiel evenly replied. "Do you have…any other requests before I send you to this place?"

The Winchester's lips quirked in a tiny smile. "Yeah…take care of my car."

"It shall be in good hands." And with that, Castiel pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead, and a blast of brilliant light and a second later, the heavenly being was once again alone…praying to his absentee Father that his human charge could indeed save his younger sibling.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

As it always was whenever he travelled by angel-power, Dean had to take a moment to recover his equilibrium…but this time he took no more than that. Soon as the world had stopped spinning he got to his feet and sprinted in the direction of the lit up 'vacancy' sign of the motel in which his brother currently resided, starting his search for number thirteen with the nearest side of the square formed by the four long strips of rooms. His anxious eyes were met with a plaque embossed with a '61' and the hunter cursed loudly, taking only a split second to pick a direction and take off in it. The digits decreased in a blur as he ran – _Room 53, 52, 51, turn a corner, 50, 49…shit, I think I picked the wrong way when I started! _– and his pulse pounded in his ears. He picked up the pace even more and turned another corner at Room 26, finally putting him on the correct strip, the awareness of which caused his stomach to toss with more force than ever in anticipation and dread of what he would soon find.

_19, 18, 17, 16, oh God, 15, 14…RIGHT HERE! _Heart in his throat, Dean wasn't about to give a damn about property damage and kicked the door in without giving Sam any semblance of a warning…and that turned out to be a fatal mistake.

It was in fact hard to tell which Winchester was more startled and shaken in that moment – Dean, upon seeing his younger brother sitting barefoot on the side of his bed in a T-shirt and track pants _with a damn_ _gun_ held snugly against his own temple, or Sam, upon having his older brother burst into the room completely unannounced and unexpected.

And maybe, Dean would later reflect in the depths of grief, if he'd done just _one thing_ different, he could've changed things. Maybe if he had shouted out to Sam beforehand and let him know he was there instead of breaking right in, or hell, maybe if he'd even _knocked_ or made Cas zap him directly to Room 13 instead of only a short distance from the motel or not talked so long to Bobby or _freakin' something…_any_thing_….it would've turned out all right.

But as it happened, only seconds passed between the brothers. Seconds in which twin crystalline tears spilled down Sam's cheeks into the corners of his quivering lips, his broken, strangled cry of "De…" – so mixed with surprise, hope, fear, resignation, and _love_ – almost entirely drowned out by his older sibling's desperate bellow of "Sam, _NO_!"…and the muscles in his poised trigger finger already too committed to the action they had been about to perform the instant before Dean had shown up.

Too committed to loosen back.

Dean could only stand by in utter shock and horror, helpless…listening as a loud crack echoed throughout the motel grounds…watching as a fine mist of blood and brain matter exploded from the side of his baby brother's head to coat every nearby surface in crimson. Soundlessly screaming as the light left his brother's soulful blue-green eyes, his newly lifeless 6'4" frame jerking, swaying, and finally collapsing from the bed onto the floor below, with more red liquid life immediately saturating the dingy area of carpet on which his shattered skull came to rest.

Dean, in turn, fell to his knees.

And the night and world around the devastated older brother fell deathly still and silent.

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Uh…two things. First – TRUST ME. Second – PLEASE DON'T KILL ME?! *gulps* :-o

Seriously though, remember what you've learned in canon…same thing applies here. Don't let that – yes, I admit – supremely evil cliffhanger scare you away from the story's conclusion, m'kay? Good. And I hope Castiel's part made sense here. For one thing, I believe he does care about Sam as well deep down and wants to see the brothers together…so I figured, if he had the power to zap Dean away from Zach, what if he also had enough power and the idea to tamper with Zach's future Sam/Lucifer, to make him a little more talkative and _informative _to Dean than Zach would've had him be? Going with the very loose rules that govern Castiel's abilities in S5 – sometimes he has them (_The End_), sometimes he doesn't have enough of them (_Good God, Y'all_, concerning healing Bobby) – it could happen…so here, it did. :-)

And one last thing…I'm hesitant to post the last chapter on Sunday, or what I now have come to know as "E/O Drabble Day/Night", because I_ really_ don't want it to get lost amongst the pages and pages those usually end up comprising almost entirely. I'm planning to hold off posting until around noon on Monday in order to avoid that…but if any of you absolutely _cannot wait_ another extra day, tell me in your review and if I get enough people to say that, I'll trust that the final chapter will be a success on Sunday despite the drabbles and go ahead and post then anyway.

Thanks as always to my LLS for the beta and to all of you for reading…please do review, even if it's just to say a couple of words! :-)


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: Tried to talk Chuck into sharing his ownership of _Supernatural_ with me, hoping it would carry over into real life and Kripke! But right at the moment that persistence may have been about to pay off, this rumble and bright light started filling the room and said prophet warned me that 'they' were coming…and that was my cue to get _going_! LOL.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**One Shot**

PREVIOUSLY: _Dean could only stand by in utter shock and horror, helpless…listening as a loud crack echoed throughout the motel grounds…watching as a fine mist of blood and brain matter exploded from the side of his baby brother's head to coat every nearby surface in crimson. Soundlessly screaming as the light left his brother's soulful blue-green eyes, his newly lifeless 6'4" frame jerking, swaying, and finally collapsing from the bed onto the floor below, with more red liquid life immediately saturating the dingy area of carpet on which his shattered skull came to rest._

_Dean, in turn, fell to his knees._

_And the night and world around the devastated older brother fell deathly still and silent._

**Chapter 4**

He was numb.

It was that wretched moment at Cold Oak all over again, those three days after…only this time it was even worse, because this time _Sam_ was Sam's killer _oh God why, Sammy, why_, and because this time there would be no more deals to bring him back.

Dean Winchester knew that much…knew that he was far too important to the big battle now for the angels to allow such a thing; and hell, the angels had freaking told him that they'd bring him right back should he ever die…which was the only damn thing that kept him from snatching Sam's gun off the floor and following right after his brother himself.

Instead, after his mind and body started finally started functioning again, he crawled over to Sam's wilted form, the shock that his sibling, his best friend, his _whole world_, was really gone forever still too fresh for tears to even come to his eyes. It was almost if he was moving on autopilot as he knelt beside his brother's head and ghosted shaking fingers over Sam's cheekbone, the skin there still soft and warm and slightly wet from the tears shed before the trigger had been pulled. Dean committed the feel of it to memory then and there, knowing that the skin would eventually become rigid and ice cold, the tears long since dried. Sam's normally wide eyes were only half open, the always vibrant and expressive blue-green orbs now unseeing and horribly glazed over in death. Dean couldn't bear those eyes that had so defined the very essence of Sam all his life looking like that…gently, he swept the pad of his thumb over the partially closed lids, shutting them all the way. Now, instead of appearing dead, Sam only appeared peaceful…just resting.

That was…if not for all the blood on and around him, much of it still seeping from the mortal wound in his head. It pretty much quashed all chances Dean had of pretending…and he couldn't bear that either.

"Cas!!!" Dean was sure his frenzied shout could be heard through the walls of the room into the adjoining ones, but he didn't care…if the freaking gunshot hadn't awakened the folks next door – if there even _were _any – then certainly his yells wouldn't. "_CAS!!!_" In fact, he'd gladly wake the whole world up if that's what it took to _get that damn angel to—oh…shit._ With irritation, the older brother suddenly remembered the Enochian sigils Castiel had carved into his ribs…no way he'd be getting in touch with Castiel simply by screaming for him anymore. He immediately pulled out his cell phone with shaking hands, doing his best not to look at Sam's body as he highlighted and selected Castiel's name. The angel picked up on the second ring, with that pause Dean had come to expect as Castiel was still learning phone etiquette before…

"_Hello?"_

"C-Cas…" Dean winced; he couldn't help the unsteadiness in voice anymore than he could help it in his hands. "I…I need you to c-come…P-Plainsview Motel, Kansas, r-room thirteen."

"_Dean…? Are you alright?"_

"No…no, m'not. And neither…neither is S-Sammy."

"_Is your brother injured?"_

Dean lost his patience. "For God's sake, Cas, what's with the twenty questions, I said just GET HERE!"

No sooner had Dean issued the command than a faint flutter and slight change in air pressure heralded the angel's entry. But Dean was still too numb to jump at the sudden arrival as he usually did…Castiel frowned.

"Dean…" the heavenly being greeted guardedly as he stepped forward from where he'd appeared just inside the door. "What is—" And then he saw Sam Winchester…slumped on the carpet between the beds, eyes closed, face ashen, and head lying in a pool of blood. The angel stared in silence for a moment…then bowed his head in regard for the fallen young man, understanding that Dean had been too late.

The hunter's hackles instantly rose. "Cas, with all due respect, I know you're real big on talkin' to that oh-so providing Father of yours who just happens to be on some kind of cosmic coffee break when you need Him the most…but _my brother is dead_ and I REALLY don't have time for all that _prayer _crap!"

Castiel's head lifted, his blue eyes meeting Dean's intense green ones with remorse. "I am sorry, Dean. This…I know that this was nothing that my Father wanted—"

"Well your divine Daddy Dearest really ain't here to specify otherwise, is He?!" Dean spat hotly in interruption. "So let's just forget about Him and what He wants or intends or what-the-_Heaven_-ever for a minute, and concentrate on you and me…namely how you're gonna bring my brother back!"

The apologetic expression remained upon Castiel's face. "Dean…again, I am sorry, but…"

"But _what_, Cas?"

"You…your brother," the angel whispered sympathetically. "He is gone, Dean."

Dean's stare was stony and cold. "Gone."

"Yes," Castiel nodded. "This was his choice…he cannot be brought back from it."

"That so." The blood in Dean's veins began to boil. "Well that's kinda funny, seein' as how I remember your ex-boss tellin' me that if _I _were ever to throw in the towel and commit hari-kari _I'd_ just be brought back." Feeling having returned to his legs, the elder Winchester stood angrily and loomed over the angel. "What's the difference, Cas? Wouldn't that be my choice too… am I some kind of exception to the rule just because your buddy Michael can't keep his sword in his _own_ pants? _Or_…could it possibly that you dicks really don't give a damn about Sam, were maybe even just waitin' for him to buy the farm, huh?" Now furious, Dean grabbed hold of the lapels of Castiel's ubiquitous trench coat and drew him in nose-to-nose. "DON'T LIE TO ME, Cas!"

The angel was unfazed by Dean's aggression though, and answered him evenly. "Dean…if I could bring Sam back, I would do so. Sam was…_undeserving_ of such an end, despite the poor decisions of his past. His heart and soul retained its innate good. However…" The angel swallowed, regret thick within his tone. "You must remember that I am now cut off from Heaven and much of its power, as I informed you. I do not have the means to resurrect Sam."

Desperate emotion crept into Dean's steely gaze. "Well then get somebody else down here! Get Anna, call on some winged pal of yours I haven't met yet, hell, get me Zachariah for all I care, just freakin' do _something_!"

Castiel had never felt more sorrow for his human charge than he did at that moment. Dean was truly beside himself in devastation…but it was a pain he could not ease. "I cannot, Dean. It is forbidden…other angels would never take the risk, not even those who have rebelled. Zachariah is out of the question, and Anna…" The angel lowered his eyes, guilt resurging within him for having ratted and sold out his heavenly sister. "Anna is…currently unavailable."

"Oh," Dean pursed his lips and averted his eyes, nodding sarcastically. "Right, of course. None of you feathery frauds would dare taint your shiny haloes by touchin' the boy with the demon blood, eh Cas? I mean, damn, the kid's used goods now in the grand scheme of things, really. You got him to open the last seal…he's done his job and now you're done with him. But you'll all be damned if he gets any severance pay, huh?"

Silence passed between them for a moment before Castiel locked eyes with Dean, showing the sincerity contained within. "Dean…I am fully aware that no apology I can give you will ever be sufficient, but…I can give you this much. Your brother has suffered a great deal upon this Earth, and still had much yet to suffer…but he has been released from this sentence. He is at rest, now." To the angel's consternation though, the hunter narrowed his eyes to mere slits upon the statement.

"He's been released, huh? Is that what you call it…sounds all well and good on paper but _into what_, Cas? Released INTO WHAT? You look me in the eye and you tell me that you self-righteous assholes actually took mercy on the guy whose screw-ups involved suckin' down Hell spawn juice and letting Satan out of the slammer, or who's had the damn stuff in him since he was six months old even if it's through no fault of his own. Hell, you tell me that Heaven's even still open for business being that its CEO is a little MIA…" Dean's fists were by then clenched hard enough for his nails to draw blood, but he couldn't even feel the sting of the cuts in his outrage. "_Look me in the eye_ and tell me Sam's not burning in the pit right now for just having committed suicide alone!"

The angel looked painfully conflicted for a moment, opened his mouth to speak…then closed it back and dropped his eyes to the floor instead.

Dean's glare was icy, his voice hoarse. "I thought so." Castiel began to protest, but the hunter soundly cut him off. "Get the hell out of here, Cas."

"Dean—"

"LEAVE!" came the incensed final order, then, more quietly but just as firmly… "I wanna be alone with my brother."

The angel nodded wordlessly and sadly, vanishing on the spot with another faint flutter.

Dean's gaze stayed riveted to the newly empty space for a few seconds, almost as if expecting Castiel to change his mind and come back, before finally reverting to Sam's unmoving form…now knowing it would never move again. And at long last, his eyes filled with tears. "_Sammy_..."

The tall, lean-muscled body was even heavier than usual when Dean gingerly lifted it from the dirty carpet into his strong arms. Sam's head lolled bonelessly to the side on his long neck, and Dean cupped the back of it in support as he guided it to finally rest against his own shoulder, swallowing back bile at the feel of sticky blood matting and hardening the formerly silky strands of Sam's thick hair. And amongst the now flattened curls that concealed Sam's ear on the right side was the still oozing bullet hole, which Dean made damn well sure not to touch. Sucking in a strangled breath, the bereaved elder brother pulled the younger's body close and laid his chin on top of the shaggy head, heart aching as the clean, warm scent of Sam's almond shampoo mingled with the coppery stench of blood reached his nostrils. "Sammy, God, I…I tried, kiddo. I tried, but those…those sons of bitches wouldn't bite. Cas fed me some bullshit about how you're better off like this, but…are you? Sammy? 'Cause I don't know about you, but…" A sob broke free. "_I'm not_. Not without you…I don't care what I said over the phone, I was talking out of my stupid, stubborn ass…never without you."

Unconsciously, the last remaining Winchester began to rock his dead sibling, hoping that Sam could somehow hear everything he was about to say. "But I…I guess you thought that I was, huh? And…I know it was me who really made you think that way in the end, dude, I know. When I said there was nothing you could do to help patch things up between us…when I told you we were better off on opposite sides of the world, wouldn't let you come back…and for that I'll never forgive myself, kiddo. I left you to feel like this and it doesn't matter how angry I was or had the right to be…there's no excuse for that. Freakin' telling you to stay away from me…God, Sammy…" The tears freely flowed down Dean's face by now, choking his voice. "I didn't mean forever, kid, you've gotta believe that…but I know, I didn't tell you that and not a minute's gonna go by where I don't wish I would've. All these years I've tried to save you from everything out there…and I end up killing you instead…guess Dad was right, huh?" he snorted bitterly.

"And I know, I know…if you could talk to me right now you'd be bitchin' at me about how it wasn't me who pulled the trigger, but damn it _might as well _have been me. 'Cause I know now…I know that you've been thinkin' of leavin' the game for a long time, ever since I went to Hell and how messed up you've been inside…and I don't mean that in a judgmental way this time, okay? I knew you were hurting but I just never knew how much, and worst of all I never bothered to find out, to _ask_…and for that I'm so sorry. No, I didn't pull the trigger but I sure as hell didn't do much to ever stop you from doing it either!" Dean's arms started to give out, weakened by physical and emotional strain, and he lowered Sam back to the floor with infinite care, cushioning his head the entire way down. He then took Sam's cooling, stiffening hand in his own and resumed his one-sided conversation, busying his other hand with a repetitive stroking of the younger man's blood-free and still soft long bangs.

"Sammy…God I'd do anything to get you back, kiddo. Anything…though I guess that's nothin' new, huh? I know I've never said this before because I never felt it, but now…I'm sorry about the deal, too. I'm _not_ sorry about having gotten you back…but I am sorry for what that deal did to you. I was in Hell, yeah, but you were up here in Hell on Earth and I wouldn't…_couldn't _let myself see that. And because of that I couldn't…_wouldn't_ help you through your own crap and here we are now I guess, huh? Only you're _not _here anymore and...nothing, _nothing_ will ever make that okay." Dean squeezed Sam's hand harder as another sob burst from his throat.

"And I'd follow you, you know. In a heartbeat, without a freakin' flinch but…I finally get it now, I get that that's where this whole mess started. I couldn't let you go, not even when I had the slightest thought that maybe you were in a better place, and I sold my soul, but…I guess I kind of ended up sellin' yours too right along with it. And I won't do that again, man…I won't. Not because of the Hell it brought me, but 'cause of the hell it brought you. No more of that, kiddo, I promise."

Dean lowered his head to their linked hands and placed a firm kiss to Sam's knuckles to seal the vow, then looked longingly at the revolver that lay nearby. "But…but I can't follow you either. The damn angels, that bastard Zachariah…he said that he'd just bring me back if I ever died or killed myself. And I guess that's reason enough not to even pick up the gun at all, but…it's more than that. I know the thought of bein' Lucifer's meat-suit terrified you like nothin' else before and that you thought you were doin' the world a favor by denying him your skin like this…and I also know that you just couldn't fight anymore, and I'm not mad at you for that, okay? God knows there were times I felt like that myself and the only thing that kept me going was you. But you…you thought that you didn't have me anymore, so…I get it, kiddo. But anyway…I know that you wouldn't want me to…to come after you. That you'd want me to keep fighting if I could, so…I will, Sammy. I'll do it, I'll do it for you 'cause for all the times I called you selfish, I know that you almost _always_ put other people first and I'm gonna do the same…you'll always come before them in my book, but they're gonna keep comin' before _me_. 'Cause if I had it my way I would've joined you by now, but I want you to have it your way one last time and I know your way is the higher road. So I'll keep takin' it for you…and I'll know deep down that you're still walkin' it with me, bitch."

Dean's lips trembled as he stared at his little brother lovingly through tear-blurred eyes. "So, later on, we'll…we'll go to Bobby's, okay? We'll fix you up a nice-lookin' pyre, put you in some clean clothes…maybe that funky white and red inside-out shirt you were always so crazy about, you geek. Give you a good hunter's sendoff…a hero's sendoff. 'Cause when it comes down to it that's what you are, Sammy. Not a monster,_ never_ a monster. Just a good kid who had a whole bunch of shit heaped on him from the get-go, a man who fought back against it all at every turn until it just got too much to fight…but most of all? My brother, kiddo. You still are…and you always will be."

The older man held the younger's limp hand to his cheek in silence for another minute, and then lowered it with infinite care to rest atop his stomach. "Be right back, Sammy," Dean promised as he stood on wobbly legs, his trek to the tiny motel bathroom seeming miles long when it was really only feet long. But even that was still too far from Sam, and he quickly performed his task of wetting as many towels as he could find with warm water before returning to his kneeling position beside his sibling. "Okay, kiddo…let's get you cleaned up a little, huh?" Dean gently began rubbing at the drying blood that stained one side of Sam's neck, wanting to remove as much of the gore as possible simply because he couldn't stand to see it marring his brother's cherished features. He didn't plan to stop until every surface of the once golden-tan skin, now pallid in death, was spotless…it was his only coping method for the moment, even though he knew there would never be any _true_ way to cope with the loss of his Sammy. There sure as hell hadn't been one the last time, after all.

Within minutes, Dean was engrossed in the task. So much so, in fact, that he didn't notice the phenomenon that had just begun to take place around him until he shifted to wash the blood from Sam's cheeks and forehead…only to find that the crimson blots had somehow formed back into perfectly rounded beads that were _moving_ _of their own volition _across Sam's face, sideways. _Against gravity_. Eyes widening in astonishment and bewilderment, he looked to see a similar marvel taking place with the blood on the carpet, walls, and furniture, with the blood on Sam's pale blue T-shirt…even with the blood that newly soiled the motel towels. Every last drop was somehow seeping from the varying surfaces as if it had never been absorbed into them, and closer inspection revealed that the droplets only had one aim – the bullet hole in Sam's temple. "Oh my God…_Sammy_? What…_how_…?"

Dean continued to watch in rapt awe as the unnatural process advanced to the next level, the scarlet globules having begun to merge into tiny streams that flowed backwards into the fatal wound, passing over any obstacles in their paths without a snag. Even the blood that had dried into Sam's hair had soon enough re-liquefied and followed suit, restoring the long locks to their natural sheen and fullness down to every wave and curl. And finally, there was the wound itself…which sealed up with some brief sucking and popping noises within seconds, right before Dean's boggling eyes.

When it was all said and done, _everything_, from the complete absence of the crimson in the room to the complete lack of it on Sam's body, along with the miraculous healing of his head, gave the appearance that the youngest Winchester had never pulled the trigger.

Dean was paralyzed with shock. "What the _hell_…?" And then a chilling laugh followed by ominous words sounded from out of nowhere, paralyzing him with _fear_ in its place.

"Funny you should ask that, Dean. 'Hell' is indeed correct, but…just maybe it should be '_who_ the Hell' instead."

An average-looking middle-aged man with piercing light blue eyes then stepped out from the shadows into Dean's vision, and the hunter needed no further introduction…he knew who had joined the party. "Lucifer." It wasn't a question.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dean," the Devil replied with a cordial bow, causing Dean to glower.

"Yeah? Well, too bad the feeling's not mutual," he snarled.

Lucifer only smiled, unruffled. "Oh, I expected as much, I assure you. You are, after all, the one who has been appointed to kill me, are you not?"

"I am," Dean answered coolly. "And now's as good a time as _any_!_" _Lunging for Sam's discarded gun upon the last word, the hunter hoped to at least incapacitate his ultimate adversaryto some extent – knowing he couldn't call on Michael to bring down the blade that would actually _finish_ the job due to the sigils – but was barred from even doing that when Lucifer used his infinite power to sling the weapon out of his immediate reach. Which was just too bad for his impromptu plan of action…because Dean wasn't _about_ to step away from Sam.

"A valiant effort, Dean, a valiant effort," Lucifer chuckled. "But you can relax your guard…I am not here to harm Sam. Or even you."

"Oh, of course not," Dean scoffed. "Tell me another one, Beelzebub!" He backed closer to Sam, the large bare feet brushing against his boot heels reassuring him that the younger man was still there…if only in body. "Just how the hell did you find us anyway?" _And why the hell don't your damn sigils work when we really need 'em to, Cas?!_

Satan shrugged. "Simple, really. I merely had to send out a few feelers here and there…_demons_, in layman's terms. They have…kept an eye on your brother in your stead these past weeks."

Mentally, Dean cursed his negligence once again, but outwardly maintained his calm demeanor towards the Devil. "You know…if you're expectin' some kind of thank you, _keep waiting_!"

"Now, now, don't be so hasty," Lucifer soothed. "After all, my demons _were_ much more accommodating and benign toward your brother than his fellow humans…fellow _hunters_, no less."

Dean's blood ran cold. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, were you not aware?" the fallen angel supplied. "Sam was ambushed in his latest place of employment by two men associated with your…_profession_. One of them I believe you even used to know. They had been…_tracking_ my informants and regretfully, one of the demons became a little _too_ informative under pain of torture…told them all about how Sam freed me and consumed tainted blood to lead up to that crowning achievement. The hunters took it badly, as you can imagine."

"W-what did they do him?" Dean stammered, still reeling.

Lucifer got that same sickeningly sympathetic look in his eyes – it was like 2014 all over again – and Dean wanted to punch it right off his face, especially since he wasn't wearing _Sam's_ face this time. "Oh, it was certainly not pretty. They did the expected of course – beat him, attempted to kill him…but there was also that incidence of forcing Sam to drink more tainted blood, which proved quite harrowing for the boy." The Devil watched all the color drain from Dean's face upon the revelation. "You would have been proud of your brother, however…he refused to swallow. Spat it right back in their faces, actually…quite brave and bold for one so broken."

"You're lying," Dean growled, then backtracked sarcastically. "Oh no, wait, what was I thinkin'…you don't lie, you don't _need to_…right?"

"You are knowledgeable," Lucifer approved with all seriousness. "But if you do still doubt me, simply ask your brother when he returns."

The hunter's heart rate picked up speed. "When he returns…? But…but how, Sam….Sam's dead."

"And I, dear child," Lucifer boasted, "am an angel, despite the fact that so many of your kind call me the Devil. You were aware that, as Michael's intended vessel, you could not follow Sam into death because my former siblings would promptly resurrect you. Well…the same rules apply to _my_ intended vessel – your brother."

"Stay away from him!" Dean hissed, planting his feet more firmly in front of Sam. "He'd rather be dead than have you riding around in his skin…and I'll fight to my last breath to honor that for him."

"No, you need not fear, Dean," Lucifer placated. "I only wish to bring your brother back at the moment, not take him…the time is not right."

"And the time'll _never_ be right as long as I'm around, you son of a bitch."

Lucifer nodded. "Of course. Though I suppose that means you should be quite glad and grateful that I've not taken him already, being that you were not…_around_, as you say, in these past days of Sam's life."

_Oh God… _Dean could only gulp, knowing how right the statement was and just what all could've happened – and, in the case of the hunters, _did_ happen – to Sam in his absence. _Oh God…I'm so sorry, kiddo. _But Lucifer wasn't finished.

"Well, actually…I suppose you_ have_ now seen what Sam was driven to without you, have you not?" The Light Bringer gestured with his eyes to the body behind Dean, and the hunter felt sick. "Quite the tragically selfless young man in this case, your brother. Even before my assurance that I would bring him back should he ever pass, he vowed to end his own life before letting that happen. So much more fearful of being used to hurt others of his kind than he was of his own death…so ready and willing to accept the latter. As if he thought he deserved it, and even with the knowledge that he'd most likely be Hell-bound…I applaud the boy's courage." Lucifer then shook his head sadly. "However…it seems that you, Dean, are not the _only _one who needs to learn that one simple fact about me once and for all – _I do not lie_. Your lesson concerning it will come soon enough…but for now, it's time that Sam gets his."

"What are you talking about?" Dean queried anxiously, his ongoing stalwart stance still daring Satan to make a move toward his brother.

"Look behind you…he attempted suicide, did he not?" Lucifer answered evenly. "It tells me that the boy obviously thought I was merely bluffing when I told him I would never let him die, but this…this is his _literal_ wakeup call. And you, Dean…are in my way."

The elder brother hadn't even drawn in a breath before he was spun around and propelled across the room by the Devil's outstretched hand, hitting the wall which he was then pinned to by invisible force. He could only frantically watch and protest as Lucifer stalked purposefully towards his baby brother's motionless form. "No, NO! _Sam_! Get away from him, you twisted bastard! Don't you TOUCH him!"

Lucifer turned to give Dean an insincerely rueful smile before crouching down at Sam's side. "Oh, but I must, Dean…physical contact is entirely necessary in a situation such as this. Therefore, without further ado..." the fallen angel intoned as he placed his host's palm over the youngest Winchester's silent heart, "to loosely quote my Father…let there be _life_."

A soft yellow-white glow emitted from the splayed hand upon the statement and slowly spread outward across Sam's body, reaching to the very tips of his extremities and spanning every inch of his frame before rapidly returning to Lucifer's palm, where it then exploded into a brilliant flash before disappearing…taking the Devil and his flesh with it. Dean dropped from the wall upon the departure, stunned, wondering what the hell had just happened…

And then a loud gasp filled the room…a gasp that had come from none other than his brother.

"Oh my God…_Sammy_!" Spots still dancing in his vision from the Devil's light show, Dean blindly and hurriedly crawled in the direction of the blessed sound. It had turned into a cacophony of desperate gulps for air by the time Dean had reached his sibling's side, but it was still music to the older man's ears…it proved that Sam was alive again. His sight having mostly cleared after a few seconds more, Dean focused his gaze just in time to see Sam's long dark lashes flutter open to reveal the blue-green orbs he'd thought he'd never see again, full of fear and confusion, but clear and beautiful nonetheless. And Dean imagined that those eyes widened in further bemusement and surprise when he swiftly scooped the long body off the floor and into his arms, but after having lost Sam so horrifically, the older brother wasn't about to put up a pretense at just how over the moon he was to have the kid back.

"Sammy…" Dean whispered reverently as he clutched the younger man to his chest, one hand firmly planted against his upper back and the other threading gently through his soft chestnut waves. "Oh God, kid, I thought I'd lost you again…" The elder brother's heart soared with relief and love at the eventual breathless "De…" that was panted out against the side of his neck, and he began moving his hand up and down Sam's back in comforting strokes while keeping the other buried in his thick mop of hair. "Yeah, s'me, I'm here…I've gotcha, Sammy." He swallowed a lump when he felt tense muscles relax fractionally at the reassurance.

"Wha…wha' ha'ned?" The voice was childlike in its inflection and volume, the words garbled. Dean opened his mouth to respond, but his breath caught in his throat at Sam's next inquiry. "Wh-why m'not d-dead?"

The older Winchester felt his heart break. "Oh, Sammy…" He repositioned his hands to cup both sides of Sam's neck, gently placing his thumbs on each side of his sibling's jaw line and lifting his bowed head. "Kiddo, look at me." Sam did as instructed, and the depth of despair and disorientation in the wide, tear-bright gaze nearly left Dean at a loss for words. "We're gonna talk about all this, okay? I'm not leaving you again, I promise. You just need to get your bearings back now, all this other stuff can—"

"No…" Sam despondently interrupted. "No, was…it was him, wasn'it? L-Lucf'r. Said…said he'd do it, tr-tried an'way...di'nt wan' wait till I said y-yes."

"Yeah," Dean answered quietly. "Yeah, dude, it was him. But you listen to me." Dean made sure he had Sam's full attention before continuing. "I don't care…I don't give a shit." Sam winced against him, and the elder brother instantly realized that hadn't come out right…not in light of recent events and rejections, at least. He hastily clarified. "No Sammy, I mean, I don't care _who_ or _what_ brought you back, God or an angel or a demon or yeah, even the Devil himself…it doesn't matter to me. All that matters right now is that you _are _back…and though I won't be making a toast to ole' Luci anytime soon, I couldn't be more grateful for that, okay?"

Sam nodded shakily. "An' you?" Green eyes narrowed in uncertainty, and Sam worked to force out the words. "Why you back? Thought you…thought you di'nt wan' me 'round no more…"

The younger man's eyes lowered again at this, and Dean gave his head a gentle shake, recapturing Sam's gaze. "Sammy…I'm gonna put this as simply as I can since you're still so out of it, okay? I was wrong. Really, really _wrong_, kiddo. And I'm just as _sorry_…for turning you away, for those things I said to you…for making you feel like _that_," he gestured his head toward the gun that still lay on the floor, "was the only option left for you." A tear finally broke free to trail down Sam's face, and Dean wiped it away with his thumb. "But I'm here now, little bro…and I'm not goin' anywhere again, at least not anywhere that you don't go _with_ me. And I'm not gonna let you say yes to Lucifer…just like I know _you're_ not gonna let me say yes to Michael. We'll help each other, kiddo, the way it's supposed to be."

Sam swallowed audibly. "Buh…but you don'eed my help…m'so screwed up, De. I'll jus' b'n th'way of your m-mission…y'said we make ch'other weaker…"

"Yeah, and that?" Dean responded, shame filling his tone. "_That_…was one of the many things I was really wrong about. It's the total 180 of that, man…Sammy, we keep each other strong, and more than that…we keep each other human."

The younger man immediately shook his head. "Nuh-no…m'not human…monster, va-ampire…y'd hunt me…"

"And I was wrong about those things, too," Dean said with conviction as he pulled his brother back to rest against his chest once more and resumed stroking his hair. "Especially about the monster thing though…Sammy I'm so sorry for that. I said so before but I'm gettin' the feeling that maybe you didn't hear it somehow, so um…we'll talk about that. Hell, we've got _a lot_ to talk about, kid, and this time I'm gonna listen…but right now? I want you to know for sure," he began as he held Sam slightly out from him again, making sure the blue-greens were locked on his own green orbs. "You are_ not_ a monster. Aren't, never have been, never will be…clear on that?" Sam only nodded minutely, but Dean wanted something more absolute. "And if you think I'm just tryin' to make you feel better…look at yourself, kiddo. You thought you were saving the world…you didn't know that killing Lilith was the final seal anymore than I did till the very end…and now you're guilting yourself to dea—_to the bone _over it…not to mention over what happened between us, when half of that was my own fault. And you're workin' _so damn hard_ to make things right again, willing to do anything to keep Lucifer from using you…does that sound like a monster to you?"

Sam hesitated for several seconds, then finally shook his head. "N-no, but…but m'still sorry too, for all the bad stuff I did an'…n'said t'you. R-really sorry."

Dean squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. "I know, Sammy, I know you are…and contrary to how I acted the last times you tried to apologize, that _does_ mean something. It means _everything_, actually, you know? It's the first step…and now I'm takin' mine too. And we'll meet in the middle one day or some sappy shit like that, right?"

A breathy giggle escaped from Sam's quirked lips, sounding sweeter to Dean than any classic rock song ever had. "Yeah…though…"

"Though what, kiddo?" Dean coaxed when Sam stalled too long.

"I think…I mean, I kinda feel like…like maybe we've already done it…"

"Done what?"

That soft, soulful gaze that so defined Sam's core was in full force, and Dean felt a burning behind his own eyes at the younger man's heartfelt reply. "Met in the middle…'ca-cause you're here, an' I…I _want _you here'f…if you wanna be here too still, with me…do you?"

Dean smiled his first genuine smile in a long time. "No place I'd rather be, bitch."

And Sam's lips trembled into an answering smile as he fought to contain tears of a _different_ sort, dimples making a much-welcomed and long-overdue appearance. "J-J-Jerk."

The older brother grinned wider and merrily ruffled Sam's already tousled locks, reveling in the restored camaraderie between them for a moment longer before schooling his face into a mask of seriousness again. "But Sammy…you've just gotta promise me one thing right now, okay?" Sam seemed to sense the change in levity and followed suit, giving Dean his undivided attention. "Promise me that you won't ever…_ever_ do this again. Lucifer's intended vessel or not, the world's better off _with_ you in it, man, not with_out_. And me…hell, kid, you _are_ my world, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Angels and devils and Apocalypse be damned."

"M'kay, Dean," Sam shakily acquiesced. "I p-promise…not that I _c-could_ do it again now anyway, I guess."

"Well thank Satan for that," Dean quipped with a wink. "But that promise goes for _after_ when we ice the ultimate Biblical bastard, too…got me?"

"Got'cha." The youngest Winchester answered with a newfound confidence.

"That's m'boy," Dean approved with a pat to the shoulder before sliding his hands underneath his brother's armpits. "Now, let's get you off this dirty floor, huh? Probably don't wanna know what half those stains are you've been lyin' in"…_and thank God blood's not one of 'em anymore._ With a mighty but careful heave, the older man lifted the younger to his feet and gently deposited him on his rear on the side of the bed. Sam was still weak as a newborn kitten, so Dean further assisted him by picking up his long legs and swiveling them until they lay straight, nearly hanging off the edge as usual. He then gathered several pillows, supporting Sam's upper back as he stacked them against the headboard before guiding his brother down to rest atop their softness. The taller man's whole body seemed to decompress in relief at the comfort, and Dean smiled warmly. "Better?"

"Much," Sam sighed, dark lashes fluttering shut. "Thanks, Dean."

"Don't mention it, kid," the elder brother accepted. "You get some rest now, okay? You're exhausted…dyin' and bein' brought back to life'll do that to ya; believe me, I know! So you take it easy while I get situated here and give Bobby a call to let him know you're alright, and tomorrow…maybe we'll pay the old coot a visit, see how he's doin' with those new wheels of his, huh?"

"S'nds good…"

_Huh. _The kid was apparently already drifting off, Dean noted with amusement. Then he sobered, wanting to get in one last word for the night before he too gave in to his fatigue. "And Sammy…? Tomorrow…we're gonna talk, too. We already got through some of it tonight, but we've still got a lot to go…so no more puttin' it off, okay?"

"Mmm…" the younger man murmured. "Thought you di'nt do chick-flick mom'nts…"

A memory instantly resurfaced in Dean's head at his sibling's slurred whisper, and chick-flick though the sentiment it brought about definitely was, he couldn't think of a response more appropriate to give. So, tenderly brushing a stray lock of hair out of Sam's peacefully closed eyes with a fond smile on his face…he gave it.

"You're my little brother, Sammy…there's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

-o-o-o-o-o- THE END -o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: See, told y'all you could trust me! LOL. Though yeah, I'm sure it was in doubt there for a bit…but so are the effects of an evil cliffhanger. I know suicidal Sam stories have been done before, and many of them very well so, but I hope I came up with an original take on it…I sure had fun being able to bring him back to life, I'll tell you that! LOL. I could never permanently kill our boy, could never do that to him or Dean! *hugs them* :-)

So thus, another story comes to a close, and it's implied that the boys will be better from here on out, just the way I like 'em, LOL…and I thought it was better to just leave off here and let the big talk between them take place in all of your own minds. Hope you all enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed writing it, big thanks go to my LLS for her awesome beta work and to all of you for reading, favoriting/alerting, and reviewing! Would love to hear from y'all one more time before the next story, so please do drop me some final thoughts, and I will be back with something new soon, hopefully…_definitely_ sooner than this one took, I assure! LOL. I've already got a couple new stories in the making, and with my new job-in-which-I-don't-really-do-a-lot, LOL, I have ample time to work on them! So I hope to see y'all back here again for the next one, and thanks again for reading this one! :-D

-PsychicWonderKitty

P.S. If anyone is curious to see the drawings of Jared I did for the multiple conventions, I plan to update my profile page later tonight and include a link to my Photobucket page, so you can see and comment on them there if you like! They're under the "Artwork" folder, naturally. LOL. :-)


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